Seven Circles
by 263Adder
Summary: There are seven deadly sins and seven heavenly virtues. There also happen to be seven members of the Umbrella Academy. Warnings for violence in a dream sequence. Then and Now series: Part 5.
1. Number One, Sloth

Sloth, the hardest sin to define. It's commonly associated with laziness however it can also be associated with inaction.

* * *

Number One quickly made his way across the halls, his footsteps too heavy as they always were. He cursed his lack of ability; there was not a single stealth exercise Dad had yet provided him which he could master, his strength always belying his position.

At least he was quick, arriving at the doors to Dad's office only minutes after Pogo had conveyed the request for his presence.

Tapping lightly on the door, still sending a loud boom around the empty corridors, he was brusquely admitted.

"Take a seat, Number One." Father said curtly, not looking up from his desk. There were several sheets of papers in front of him including several which appeared to be building schematics.

He must be planning another operation, One concluded. His chest swelled as he waited for his instructions, satisfied that Father trusted him so implicitly he would be the first to learn of the mission.

Scanning the documents before him, despite them being upside down, he saw it looked to be a large public building. The words exhibition and gallery were repeated throughout – perhaps a museum or art gallery.

Father eventually spoke: "Pogo will debrief you on a new mission shortly. I wanted to inform you first, however. It is different to what you are accustomed to."

"Whatever it is Father, the Umbrella Academy can handle it."

Father frowned.

Number One knew he didn't care for the children calling him Father, let alone Dad, however the thought of calling him _Sir_ made One feel strangely hollow. Going out on missions had provided the Academy members with more experience of the outside world than they had been permitted when they were younger. He observed the relationships normal children had with their families.

He knew seeing those interactions, tender and warm, had made the others feel more and more distant from their Father, but they didn't understand. It wasn't that Father didn't care about them, he just couldn't afford to treat them like ordinary children. It was their responsibility to save the world and his to make sure they were good enough to do so. He couldn't risk coddling them in case it made them go soft. The Academy needed to be prepared for the difficulties ahead.

Still, despite being the only one who knew this, there _were_ times One wished Father would refer to him as a son rather than as a number.

It wasn't what life had in store for them, unfortunately.

"There is an event to be held at the Museum of Modern Art in Manhattan. They are hosting a somewhat controversial speaker to deliver a lecture and, given the hostility this individual often receives – including several death threats sent over the last few months – and the precious commodities housed by the Museum, they have asked that the Umbrella Academy attends the lecture to ensure peace is kept. I accepted the contract and have been sent an outline of the event, as well as detailed plans of the building to determine where it would be best to strategically place you all."

Father fiddled with the papers, turning the schematics, flyers and assessment binders around for One to read.

While he fussed with the documents, One considered his words. _The contract_ – did that mean they were being paid? But they already had money, plenty in fact. If someone felt they were in danger wasn't it simply their moral duty to protect them, not to do it for money? And who was the person they were protecting?

_A controversial figure_, Father had said. Controversial how? Were they about to protect a bad person?

"Number One, you and Number Two will immerse yourself in the audience. Number Three will be positioned behind the stage; that way if a threat presents itself she can address the room and get the audience to safety. Number Four will go to the security offices, coordinating with the Museum's security teams and monitoring the video feeds. You will all be kept in radio contact throughout the event; if Number Four sees anything he can alert all of you immediately. Number Five and Number Six will take roving positions. Number Six will stand on the upper levels, keeping a watch on the events below. I have identified several blind spots in the Museums security measures, which Number Five will jump between throughout the event."

One looked at the plans, seeing where their intended positions were marked.

When he failed to pass comment after several moments, Father tutted with annoyance. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father." He replied duly. Briefly his mouth opened again, tempted to ask who it was they would be protecting, but he shut it before Father could notice.

"Gather the others in the drawing room, Pogo will meet you there imminently." Father instructed, his attention already moving away far too soon for One's liking. "Dismissed, Number One."

Walking away, taking his time to close the office door on the off-chance he was recalled, One headed towards the kitchens where he knew several of his siblings were gathered.

Number Seven was baking with Mom, Four hanging optimistically beside her. He wanted to eat the remaining cookie dough, his spoon poised and waiting.

Six and Five were sat at the table, Six sat in Three's usual seat. Five was helping Six with the chemistry homework he had refused to help One with earlier in the day.

Suppressing a scowl, not sure how successful he was, he called them to attention.

It infuriated him that only Seven, the one member of the family not on the team, glanced towards him.

"Hey, guys." He tried again, raising his voice. "Listen up, we've got a mission."

"The alarm's not ringing." Five pointed out, flipping the pages of the textbook to find the page which would best help Six.

"It's not an emergency. We were hired."

Five's brow raised. "Like a catering service?"

"Someone's _life_ is being threatened, Five." One sighed, wishing for once someone else in the family besides him and Dad could take their duties seriously.

"Who is it?"

"I don't know, someone important."

"You don't know?" Four asked, excitedly accepting the mixing bowl from Seven as Mom put the cookies in the oven. "Well if we don't know who he is how do we know he doesn't deserve to be threatened?"

"Father knows what he's doing. He wouldn't send us to protect someone who didn't deserve protecting." One said resentfully. How could Four even ask such a thing?

"I don't know. I think Four might have a point." Six said, immediately blanching.

"Did you just say I have a point?" Four gushed. "By golly gosh, did everyone else hear that? Please tell me someone got him on tape."

"Where are you going?" Seven asked.

"Seven, _please_. This is Academy business." He dismissed. The veins in his temples were starting to pulse.

A splat to the side of his head didn't help the blossoming headache. Wiping it he came away with some raw cookie dough and looked at Four accusingly.

"Don't bite the hand that feeds you, Number One." Four said with faux sensibility. "Actually _do_, that way Seven will give me all of your cookies."

"We get four each." Seven insisted, taking her seat beside Five.

"There's only twenty-six cookies, Seven." Five pointed out.

"Oh, I only need two." She said.

"No, you and I will have three each." He stated, his voice final. Five didn't look up to see Seven's shy but pleased smile.

One sometimes wondered if there was something going on between the two; something similar to the way he often felt about Number Three – like he shouldn't really call her his sister.

It was something their exposure to the real world was increasingly making him question. The families they saw on missions: _the Umbrella Academy didn't act like them_. For a start, no other family had a Mother made of metal. There were no other children referred to as numbers and forced to wear matching uniforms. So far, he had met no one whose family included a genetically modified monkey. He wasn't even sure what part Pogo was meant to play in their family. A cousin? An uncle? Father definitely didn't encourage any titles, for the first few months of her service the children had all called Grace their Nanny. It was only when Number Two started to call her Mom that the others gradually followed suit.

One and Three stuck to the titles expected of them, brother and sister. He wasn't sure if a word even existed that could fit their true relationship.

It would certainly make his life easier if Five and Seven _were_ together, then at least he would know the word as Father spat it at them. Father constantly chastised him for his close relationship with Number Three, and they were Father's favourites. Perhaps if he saw how much Five cared for Seven, the ordinary one, the one Father always warned was a distraction to them, he wouldn't mind One spending so much time with Three in comparison – putting an end to _their_ relationship but not to _his_, finally seeing how much better Three made him.

Five was always the rule breaker, the one to challenge Father's rules and question his orders though. When Father told One to stay away from Three, catching them as they tried to sneak into each other's rooms at night, he always obeyed. Would Five? And if not, did that make Five better than him?

"So where _are_ we going?" Six pressed, forcing One to drag his eyes away from Five and Seven's quiet conversation.

"The Museum of Modern Art." He started, his words interrupted by a disappointed noise.

"What is it?" Five asked Seven, who was looking sadly down at the table.

"I've always wanted to go to MOMA." She confessed. "They have Starry Night in there, it's one of my favourite paintings."

Five frowned, thinking how to best cheer her up before acting.

Patting her shoulder, he said: "I'll steal some postcards for you."

"Five, we are not stealing anything." One said indignantly. To think, a few seconds ago he had contemplated Five being better than him. The boy had no morals.

"I didn't say _we_ were." Five said flippantly. "And I would _buy_ them if we were ever given any sort of allowance. How much is Dad getting for our services, anyway? Who wants to bet we don't see a dime?"

"We can't bet because we have no money." Four said, talking with his mouth full to the repulsion of the room. "If we did, I'd buy one of those Von Dutch hats."

The disgust in the room deepened.

"Four, darling." Grace chastised, crossing the room to wash the dishes. "Don't speak while you're eating, it's impolite."

"Sorry, Mom." He apologised, passing the scraped out bowl to her for cleaning.

"We're gathering in the drawing room for a debriefing from Pogo."

The children all remained in place.

"_Now_." One stated, grabbing Four's arm and ushering him out the kitchen.

"Hey, all right! Watch the jacket!"

Six sighed, closing his chemistry textbook. "I need to take these upstairs first."

"I can take them, Six." Seven offered, picking up the book. "Yours too, Five. You don't want to keep Pogo waiting."

One could have almost hugged her then. If only there were a way to transfer Five's powers to Seven, maybe then he could have someone on the team who listened to their leader.

"They're heavy, Seven." Five argued. "I'll jump upstairs with them. You can keep an eye on the cookies, I don't like mine too crunchy."

"I'm aware." She said, handing him the texts. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

Five jumped out of the room.

Six followed him from the kitchen, heading for the drawing room while One jogged up the stairs towards the children's bedrooms.

"Three?" He called.

"In here." She replied, sitting in her bedroom. There was a magazine open in her lap which she was flicking through. "Hey, what's going on?"

"We've got an assignment, Pogo will debrief us downstairs."

"Okay." Three said easily, closing the magazine and clambering off the bed to sidle up to his side. Looking up at him with those searching brown eyes such asked: "Is it anything fun?"

One blinked, always feeling a little unsteady when Three turned her full attention on him. How many soft moments had the two shared, and yet every time he felt her focus on him – looking at him with reassurance, ready to back him up when the others let him down – he felt like his entire world shifted on its axis.

"Erm, some lecture at an art museum."

"Oh, that doesn't sound very interesting." She said, disappointed.

One hated to see her look sad, so he was quick to act, trying to talk up the mission. "No, I think it will be. There will be lots of people there, I bet it will be like a big party. There'll be a stage where the man we're protecting will stand, and you might get to use the microphone if anything goes wrong."

Three's eyes lit up, the promise of an audience never failing to buoy her spirits. It was no secret that from a young age she had started to dream of becoming an actress, even though One knew Father would never permit it. How could he? Without Three there would be no Umbrella Academy and, without them, who would save the world? But how could One help himself from encouraging her, when the dream made her so happy?

"Let's go then." She said cheerfully.

"I'll catch up, I've still got to find Two."

"Don't be long." Three said, her words bringing an easy smile to his face.

"I won't."

They parted ways, One hurrying towards Two's room.

He wasn't inside, which left the training room as the next likely spot.

One unintentionally bumped into Seven on the staircase, throwing a distracted apology over his shoulder as his ungainliness caused her to drop a book, but he had wasted too much time in the kitchen and needed to find Two now before Father could become unhappy with him for taking so long.

Two was throwing his knives at the targets.

One barked more than he spoke: "Two."

"What?" Two said, still surly from that morning.

One's voice softened, feeling slightly guilty. He hadn't really meant to throw Two quite so hard in training, but sometimes when he was sparring his powers got the better of him.

The others didn't understand how frustrating it could be, always having to moderate his strength. How he always worried that he would grab someone's hand too tight, crushing a bone by mistake when he had only been attempting to convey authority in his handshake as Father had taught him to. Leaning into give Three a hug but bruising her ribs instead, when all he wanted to do was comfort her up after a rough day. Opening the door to the bathroom and ripping off the handle, trapping himself inside to the delight of the other numbers. The only weight Two's powers had placed on him was his unbroken high score on the dart board.

"Dad has a new assignment for us."

"He told you first?" Two groused.

"He showed me some layouts so I could see where everyone would be stationed. You'll see them too if you hurry up."

Two sighed, yanking his knives from the target board and holstering them.

"Fine. Let's go."

The two walked side by side, neither one letting the other take the lead.

Numbers Three through to Six were all waiting on the couches, their nervous faces the first thing One saw as he opened the door. Pogo looked at him heavily, slowly drawing One's attention with his eyes to the additional figure in the room.

Father was sat in the corner armchair, levelling a disappointed look in One's direction.

"Eight minutes, Number One, to assemble the team. I expect better from you."

He wanted to argue that it wasn't his fault, that it was the others who wasted time with their silly conversations and interruptions, always questioning him and Father's orders. He wanted to lay the blame at the feet of those who were actually responsible. It was unfair that he had to shoulder the burden of Father's frustration.

"Yes, Father. Sorry, Father." One said, his head dropping with shame.

"All of you go change into your uniforms. There is no time for a full debriefing now, so we will have to go over the final details in the car."

One marched out of the room, shrugging off Three's hand when it landed on his shoulder. His teeth clenched, he stomped all the way upstairs determined to be the first one ready to leave.

* * *

I am so nervous about this story, I hope it doesn't get too confusing. There will be 14 chapters but it's really 7 because 2 chapters (two for each sibling) will be uploaded together - hopefully - I'm just splitting them to make it easier to follow. Each sibling gets a sin and each sibling gets a virtue.


	2. Luther, Diligence

Sloth's corresponding heavenly trait is diligence. To be persistent, to work hard, to make an effort.

* * *

It was their first mission alarm to ring since they had travelled back, the shrill call sounding throughout the mansion – too loud for any of them to deny hearing it. Their first mission with all six members of the Umbrella Academy present in seventeen years. The first mission Luther was expected to lead in over ten.

He was so used to working alone, to being the only member at risk as they strode into danger. The significance of this mission almost overwhelmed him when the mission alarm first sounded.

He was so badly out of practice, years alone having made it even harder to show any command over the room. It didn't help that outside of the facade they were putting up, Luther had the least authority out of them all. He'd been surprised really, how happy he was to give up the role of leader and to let someone else take control of the increasingly uncontrollable situation. Having Five or Allison in charge gave him more time, time alone, time to think.

How was it that over the space of eight days all of their lives had changed so completely? It didn't seem right.

Dad died. Vanya had powers. Klaus could project the dead. Pogo died. Five had spent god knows how many years living in an apocalyptic wasteland. Allison lost her powers, nearly her life. Mom – _died_? Diego lost the woman he loved. They all were thrown back into childhood, narrowly avoiding death while he carried the source of their destruction in his arms. Now they were all under Dad's thumb once more, somewhere Luther had only been a few weeks ago before his death. Except he wasn't really back in the same place he was before. The entire relationship he'd had with his Father had been shattered, and now he was left with thousands of pieces unsure whether it was even worth the effort trying to put the picture back together.

For now the choice had been made for him. They had to pretend. He had to go sit beside his Father in the courtyard, a privilege which used to make him feel so special and cherished and _loved_, and try to force the pain from his face. He had to pretend that everything was the way it once was, but it wasn't. Everything was different now.

It was proving difficult enough just to readjust to his younger body, with his natural strength back instead of the abilities imbued by the serum. He could comfortably fit into rooms again, no longer forcing others to shuffle up to make space for his inhuman body. Walking down the street people didn't shrink away in fear anymore. When he got dressed in the morning he didn't have to worry about accidentally exposing any slivers of skin which could allow others to glimpse his freakish body. It was amazing, but also terrifying. Would he still have to go through the process in the future? Would Dad ever use his experimental formula on any of the others?

Luther didn't care that it saved his life. He wouldn't wish it on anyone.

He wanted to confront his Father about it, about everything, but he couldn't. This version of his Father hadn't done them yet, and he couldn't risk revealing the future. Five kept telling them that. He _couldn't_.

Tugging on his uniform, Luther headed down the stairs. As he passed Vanya's room he nodded at her politely, noticing how at least one person still shrunk back from him.

Had he been so much of a monster?

"Number One." Father nodded approvingly. Luther was the first person to reach the lobby.

The others weren't worried about reaction times anymore. They remembered the missions, they knew how to win. The others powers were much stronger than they were at thirteen, in theory every mission should be a cakewalk. In adulthood they had also learnt that the authorities were far more capable than Father had ever had them believe. Really, looking back, Luther acknowledged there were plenty of missions the police could have handled without them. Perhaps achieving it far less violently as well.

"What's the mission?" Luther asked.

"A hostage situation. Two men stole a car with the owner still inside while fleeing the police. They have now blockaded themselves inside a warehouse in Brooklyn, with the hostage inside with them. They are threatening to shoot the hostage unless they are given a car with which to escape arrest."

"Can the police not manage it?"

Father looked at him sharply, unused to questions from his Number One.

"Not without the risk of unnecessary fatalities, Number One."

"Well there's only one hostage." Luther persisted. A funny feeling arose from the pit of his stomach into his chest, as he finally said aloud the questions that had plagued the back of his mind as a child. "The police aren't incompetent."

"You will go where I send you, Number One." Father said, finality ringing around the entryway.

Diego and Five joined his side, looking warily at Reginald. It was rare he would yell at Number One in front of the other children. Usually their Father used solemn words of disappointment issued behind closed doors, knowing they would be far more effective at making Luther fall in line then screams or threats.

Their presence reminded Luther that they were meant to be acting the way they always had, despite how little they wanted to. So he hung his head in submission, hoping Father wouldn't notice how his teeth ground together.

They weren't really thirteen, but they were.

What kind of man sent thirteen-year-old children, superpowers or no, into a hostage situation? Allison's heart broke being on the other side of the country to Claire; Father had barely batted an eyelid when Luther informed him that Ben had died.

Father sighed then. "Number One, find out where the others are. This response time is unacceptable."

Luther curtly nodded, not trusting his voice to shake if he spoke, and jogged up the stairs.

Klaus collided with him at the top.

"Shit, is he mad?"

"Yes."

"_Shit_." Klaus yelled, dashing down the steps.

He found Ben lingering in the doorway to Seven's room, trying to talk to her about a new book he'd given her.

"I liked it." Vanya insisted, her head bent over her homework.

"Oh, you just didn't seem very enthusiastic." Ben murmured sadly.

"I am. I _like_ it." Vanya said. "But you've got a mission, Six. You need to go."

"Like Seven says, Six." Luther encouraged, clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder. "He's not happy about how long this is taking us."

"Right. Bye, Seven. See you soon." Ben said, moving out of the doorway.

Luther tried to head on to Allison's room but Ben seized his shirt sleeve and dragged him away from Seven's door. "You do remember this one don't you? The police had it all sorted out by the time we got there. There's no real rush."

"I remembered as soon as Dad mentioned the details." Luther said bitterly, wanting nothing more than to return to his room and close the door on this futile mission. "I tried to say we shouldn't go, but he doesn't listen. He never listened to me. You all knew that."

"You did?" Ben said, surprised that Number One would speak out against Dad.

"I've got to get Three."

Pulling his sleeve from Ben's grasp, still jittery about letting the others touch him despite his body being back to normal, he continued along the hallway to Allison's room.

Tapping on the door, he called her number.

"One?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"Oh, I'm having trouble with my uniform."

Luther blushed. "Sorry, Three. I'll tell Dad."

"No, it's just, I," she sighed, "look, could you just come in here?"

"Erm, okay." He agreed reluctantly, pushing open her door.

"Thanks, could you just..._Luther_." Allison huffed. "How do you expect to help me if you're staring at the floor?"

"Well, I didn't want to," it was his turn to sigh, "sorry."

Glancing up he saw her back zip was undone and focused on freeing the jammed material rather than tracing the smooth lines of her spine.

Allison muttered to herself as he wrestled with the fabric, trying to ensure he was tugging just hard enough to move the zip upwards but also not so hard that he would rip the uniform and snap the zipper in half.

"I swear, I used to be able to do this in thirty seconds flat."

"We're just out of practice Ally." Luther assured. "This isn't easy for any of us."

"I know that." She said impatiently. "I just feel like everything I touch at the moment goes up in flames. Claire, Patrick, _Vanya_. I really am just an epic screw-up."

"No you're not, don't say that." He breathed.

"Why not, it's the truth?"

"You hold us all together, Allison. You're the heart of this family."

She laughed humourlessly. "I'm not perfect, Luther."

"I never thought you were." He said. "You're a human being, Allison. Just like me. No one in this family will accuse me of perfection or anybody else for that matter. Why do you think we expect you to be?"

"I've done some bad things since I left this house, Luther." She confessed. "Bad things before I left too."

"So have I. But we have the opportunity to fix those now."

"For me fixing them means I might never see Claire again."

Luther gave the zip another tug and succeeded in freeing the fabric from its grooves. Once he had her fastened up, he placed his hands on Allison's shoulders to turn her around.

Offering her his hand, a quiet glance assuring her that he would be there for her whenever she was ready to talk, he led her back into the hallway.

"Bye, Seven." Allison murmured as they passed Seven's room. Vanya glanced their way and offered a tight smile, before returning to her work.

Father was livid by the time they arrived downstairs.

His voice boomed when he spoke: "This is unacceptable. How do you explain yourself, Number Three?"

"I'm sorry, Father. My zipper got stuck." Allison said, her voice thick. Luther wished he could take her hand again but knew it was a bad idea.

Father's brow twitched with irritation. "I was unaware you were unable to dress yourself, Number Three. In future I shall have Grace assist you in the mornings and evenings."

"Father, I..." Allison started, mortified by the threat.

"It's not her fault." Luther spoke up, once again startling their Father. "It's these uniforms – we all struggle with them. They're too complicated. Why can't we keep wearing our uniforms?"

"Your uniforms offer inadequate protection..."

Luther cut him off, ignoring the warning gleam that came into Reginald's eye. "That didn't stop you from sending us out in them before. Besides, we waste valuable time having to change. How many times have we been delayed because one of us got stuck in them."

"Yeah," Ben chimed it, "my sleeve always gets twisted."

"They are badly thought out." Diego added.

The foot of Reginald's cane came down hard on the floor, a resounding bang resonating around the room.

"I will not tolerate this insolence." He yelled. "Since you could not adequately respond to the mission alarm, your presence is no longer required by the authorities. You have cast a stain on the Academy's reputation by your inability to separate moral duty from frivolous opinions on fashion..."

"We're not saying they're unfashionable, well – they _are_..." Klaus tried to say but Father continued to speak over him.

"...proceed to the training room. You will train until you remember that you are members of the Umbrella Academy, not airheaded children whose greatest accomplishments in life will be differentiating the sky from the ground. Through dinner, if necessary."

They knew better than to groan. Turning on their heels they all followed Reginald from the room, mutinous glares shooting – unfelt – into his back.

* * *

So I'll level with you. 90% of the reason why I'm doing this is because I want Vanya to get wrath. But can you guess which of the remaining five sins are going to which siblings?

I felt a bit weird writing Allison/Luther - I don't oppose it, as it's canon in both the show and comics, but I'm not a diehard fan of it so I'm not sure how sincere it came across. And I know Luther is the least loved of the fandom, but I really feel like that dude's got a lot of issues to unpack and I wanted to touch on them somewhat during this series. Plus who can hate Tom Hopper?  
I wanted to try writing all of the characters' POVs but the thought of doing entire stories solely from Luther or Diego's POV is terrifying, which is why I thought this format would be better. Hopefully you think it's not going to be too confusing, constantly going between past and present-past. Up next is Diego (I'll go in numerical order) who is the one I am dreading the most! As always, let me know what you think. Hopefully you don't think this is too weird!


	3. Number Two, Greed

_Greed, an overwhelming desire to have more of something than is actually needed._

* * *

He wanted to be Number One.

He deserved to be Number One.

Why did there even have to _be_ a Number One? Why did there have to be _any_ numbers? Why couldn't they just have normal names like normal kids?

Because they're not normal, Two argued – instantly dismissing his own thought. Well, except for Seven and he didn't want to be like her. From what he'd seen her life was boring, doing the same things every day; things that would never make a difference.

Maybe it was okay to be called by a number if it meant he got to have superpowers – but he _still_ believed he should be Number One.

Not that blonde oaf who currently had the title. What did Dad even see in him? For a start One only has a single power, and not a remarkable one either. Who gets impressed by someone throwing someone else across a room anymore when they've seen children who can teleport, bend the laws of gravity and possess actual monsters?

"Dismissed." Dad called from the head of the dining table, breaking Two from his staring contest with an empty plate.

They had an hour of classes before they would return to the training room, and this time when he sparred with Number One he was determined – no, he was confident – that he would win. In fact he wanted to do more than win, if he won they would simply be even for the day. Two wanted to defeat him.

Maybe then Dad would see he deserved to be his Number One.

Sitting through class would be a pain. It always was but especially today when he wanted to get on with training. Two didn't understand why the Umbrella Academy needed classes, anyway. They knew how to read and write and count – what more did they need to know?

It wasn't like they would ever have to apply for _jobs_, their entire future was already worked out for them. Dad said so all the time. The Umbrella Academy would save the world.

Besides, they were loaded. Even Seven didn't really need to get a job, though he supposed she should try to find something which could give her a purpose. It would be weird if she just sat at home all the time, doing nothing except practising her violin.

Annoying too. She could have picked a cooler instrument at least. Like the bass or drums.

"Come on, Two." Four said, knocking Two's chair with his legs as he swung off his seat. "Let's get a good seat."

"We a-always s-sit in num-numerical order." Two intoned, not in the mood for Four's games.

"Do you ever wonder what would happen if we all sat in a different order? Like, do you think Mom's head would explode? Or just Dad's?"

Two scowled at the image. If Mom wanted them to sit in numerical order, then they would.

Of course that put him between One and Three who were constantly making moon eyes at each other. It was just gross – they were meant to be siblings.

At least Mom usually called them to order.

"Good afternoon children." Mom greeted as they entered the classroom, even though she had only seen them a few minutes ago. As always she had stood silently in the corner of the dining room like an unused piece of furniture, instead of joining them at the table like a member of their family.

"Hi, Mom." Two said, the only one to greet her properly instead of offering distracted smiles.

As everyone got settled in their seats, Mom came to stand before his desk.

"How are you this afternoon Number Two?" She asked, her eyes bright and her smile wide.

"Good. How, how are y-you, Mom?"

"I am well."

"Hey, Mom." Three said, distracting Grace from him. He felt a stab of annoyance as Mom's attention shifted away from him towards another of his siblings. Two didn't understand why she responded to them, no one else thanked her for lunch or said hello when they entered the classroom.

"I like your dress today Mom." Three gushed, reaching a hand forward to run over the dusky pink fabric.

"Thank you, Number Three."

"I wish Dad would let me wear dresses." She continued, frowning as she leant back in her chair.

"Perhaps when you are older, you can borrow one of mine." Mom placated, offering Three a brilliant smile.

Three easily returned the gesture. Mom's smiles were impossible to ignore.

Tapping on the chalkboard for everyone's attention, Mom called for their attention.

"This afternoon we will return to yesterday's topic..."

Five groaned but Mom continued.

"...examining the bonding, structuring and properties of matter. Number Seven," Mom called, "can you tell me why graphite can conduct electricity?"

"Graphite has delocalised electrons." Seven answered, her voice endlessly timid.

"Good, Number Seven." Mom praised. "Let's examine this further. On the board I have drawn..."

Two's eyes drifted over to the squiggles and lines on the board and was thoroughly uninterested by them. He wasn't a science nerd like Five, he wasn't interested in this. He wasn't ordinary like Vanya, he didn't _need_ to know this.

Instead he thought of Number One and how he could beat him.

Mom passed around some worksheets which Two futilely worked through, not caring if he failed the exercise.

"All right, Numbers One through Six report to the training room." She announced as her hour ended.

The children all hastily stood, Seven left behind as always to work on whatever else it was she did when they were gone. Probably playing that dumb violin.

Dad was waiting for them in the centre of the room, a frown still etched upon his face as it had been throughout breakfast. The man was never content with their progress, always expecting more from them even when they were already excellent. There were days when Two truly loathed him for it until Dad would give him a rare word of praise, dangled before his face like a piece of meat before a hungry dog, and he would jump to resume his assigned task with more gusto and determination – always hoping for his Father's admiration, especially if it placed him above the others.

Because what was the point in playing if he wasn't the best?

"Number One partner with Number Six." Dad instructing, a scowl blooming on Two's face in response.

One and Six headed over to the most padded sparring space, as one of them would doubtlessly be thrown during the course of their fight.

"Number Four, accompany Pogo," Dad continued in his directions, Pogo appearing at his elbow as soon as he called his name, "for individual practice."

Two failed to notice how Four's face fell, more interested in seeing whether he was to be partnered for sparring or receiving one-to-one training. If he was sparring there was a chance he would be rotated back to One, _but_ if he got one-to-one training with Dad he could rub it in his face later.

"Number Three partner with Number Five."

Three sighed lightly. Five always got behind her before she could rumour him.

"Number Two." Dad beckoned. Following after him, Two was surprised when he was ushered out the front door towards the waiting car.

As Pogo would be too occupied with Four to drive them he had hired Abhijat for the day, Father's occasionally bodyguard and chauffeur who accompanied him when he travelled alone.

"Where a-are we g-going?" Two asked, trying and failing to speak without stuttering, as he clambered into the backseat. Father got in beside him with far more poise.

"I have hired a swimming bath for the day. Once there, you will practise your underwater skills."

Two bristled with pride. Number One never got taken on field trips to test his powers. Simple as they were, there was nothing Dad could ask him to do that couldn't be completed at the house or another of Hargreeves' properties.

It pleased him even further when Mom slid into the front passenger seat, giving him a small smile in the rear-view mirror. Mom hardly _ever_ got to leave the house, and the fact that his training has caused it made him swell with satisfaction.

Abhijat handed him a bag once they arrived at the pool, containing his swimming trunks, goggles and towels.

"Good luck." Abhijat wished, looking at Two funnily as he left the warm car in favour of the cold water.

Mom stood carefully around the edge of the pool; she was only submergible to a few metres before water risked short-circuiting her. There were fourteen brightly coloured loops in her hands which she lightly tossed into the water at intermittent distances, being wary how hard she threw them to avoid the chlorinated water splashing and staining her dress.

"Two, retrieve the rings."

He almost snorted in his Father's face. Was that it? Collect the rings. It barely seemed the effort of dragging him and Mom out here.

Pulling his goggles over his eyes, he dived into the Olympic sized pool.

Two took to the water effortlessly. Kicking his legs he descended to the bottom of the pool, spotting the first green ring and pulling himself towards it.

The floor was deep, around three metres, and Two could barely see the figures standing over him at the surface.

Here the bright colour of the loops proved essential, he would never spot them otherwise. The blue ones were the hardest to see. He had plenty of time to search the dark floor however as there was no need for him to ascend for oxygen.

Seven had once asked how it felt to hold his breath for so long. His lungs never complained however the biggest obstacle he faced in training this power was the muscle memory of breathing. While there was no need to draw in oxygen, his nose instinctively wanted to suck it in and the stillness of his chest felt unnatural. If he stopped moving you'd be forgiven for thinking he were dead.

He hooked the loops on his arms and, after pausing to count them, Two concluded there must only be three left in the pool. Having them on his arms made moving through the water slightly difficult, but he powered through.

Finally spotting the final pink hoop, Two coaxed his arms into swimming towards it. Unfortunately while his lungs needed no respite, the loops – which were weighted to prevent them from floating – combined with the resistance of the water was making his upper body tired and he longed to finish the exercise so he could return to the surface.

The light above him seemed to grow darker momentarily but Two dismissed it as Father standing overhead.

It was only when a pair of arms encircled his chest he realised he'd missed someone else joining him in the water.

Flailing in surprise, not expecting to be attacked in today's session, Two released a plume of oxygen which bubbled towards the surface. Several rings also dropped from his arms, noiselessly clunking down to the floor.

Looking at the body of the man restraining him, Two realised it was Abhijat and floundered against him.

His arms were too weak to release himself and the combined weight of the water and Abhijat were dragging him down.

He threw an elbow back which connected with Abhijat's ribs but there wasn't enough strength in the movement to affect his attacker. The motion only made Abhijat clamp down harder on him and more air escaped his mouth, this time accompanied by an intake of water.

His wild attempts at escape become thrashes of panic, which Abhijat quickly realised. Keeping a hold of his waist, he kicked them to the surface where Two spluttered for breath.

"Number Two." Mom called, waiting for him.

Abhijat pushed Two out of the pool towards her ready arms. She no longer cared about preserving her dress, pulling Two close to her body.

"Can you breathe?"

It made his chest ache but he could.

"Get more towels." Mom instructed Abhijat, who raced to comply.

They bundled him in towels, Father staying out of sight until Mom had him on the benches determining him to be in a good condition.

"You allowed your opponent to sneak up on you." Dad reprimanded.

"I didn't, didn't k-know there would be an opp-opponent." Two said hoarsely, his throat still rough from hacking up water.

"Unexpected obstacles will arise in the field, Number Two." Dad said, effortlessly deflecting his excuse. "You should have been more aware of your surroundings."

He turned to Mom. "Can the boy go again?"

She shook her head. "I would not advise it."

"Very well. Abhijat bring the car around. We will return to the Academy."

* * *

Abhijat is a character from the comics who has not (yet, maybe) appeared in the TV show, however I wanted to add him in. I know everyone was guessing envy for Diego and I can see that this could be interpreted as envy (and pride I think) but I thought as he always wanted to be Number One, even though he's already Number Two which - in a way - puts him above the other five, it was more a sense of greed than envy. Anyway, Diego's second chapter will be up momentarily. I'll just read through it once more then post it.


	4. Diego, Charity

_Greed's corresponding heavenly trait is charity. To help others, give impartial love or show tolerance._

* * *

After training, Diego headed upstairs for the showers determined to wash the day away.

He was starting to realise, as much as he hated to admit it, how right Vanya had been in her book. Their entire family was well and truly fucked up. He'd always pinned everything on Dad, the monster of their collective nightmares, but they'd all had a hand in building their unique prison.

Vanya too. Diego wasn't like Allison, he wasn't letting Vanya wander blamelessly through their renewed childhood. If it weren't for her, they wouldn't be reliving this particular brand of torture.

Still, he knew that, like everyone, he needed to change his ways too. For a start he needed to stop picturing adult Vanya's dust jacket photo when he turned to the punching bag. Then he needed to stop picturing Luther when he did target practice with his knives.

He wouldn't be going so far as to agree with him though. That would be a step too far.

Reaching the children's hallway, Diego glimpsed around to see what everyone else had been up to while he was subjected to private training with Dad.

The doors to Five and Seven's rooms were shut though they were likely holed up together. They always were these days and yet, somehow, Five still hadn't found an _opportune time_ to tell her about the future. Doubtlessly the rest of them would have to handle it eventually; Five obviously wasn't up to the task.

He overheard the laughter of Klaus and Allison from the end of the corridor. The two were habitually enjoying each other's company these days – Allison loved having someone to do her hair and who would let her paint their nails. Sometimes Ben sat in the corner of the room with them, his nose wedged into a book. A place it frequently resided these days.

Luther surprised him, suddenly appearing in the open doorway of his bedroom. He glanced sadly toward Three's room but trudged past it. It was only as he came within a few steps of Diego's position he finally noticed his brother in the hallway, bringing him to a halt.

"How was it?" He asked warily.

"Crap." Diego replied, shrugging it off. "What else."

"Yeah." Luther grimaced.

"Where are you off to?"

"Library."

"You've been s-spending a lot of time in there." Diego commented suspiciously.

Number One had always been _dedicated_ – Dad's words not his – but that had been in training; always seeking additional hours in the practice room or going to Dad to request more private instruction, the only one of the six to do so. Personally Diego thought his _dedication_ bordered on lunacy.

Of course back then it just made him feel inadequate and Dad knew it. His competition with Luther was what kept him in line and pushed him to try harder.

"Yeah."

Diego glowered. "Doing what?"

Luther remained ambiguous. "Studying."

"Studying _what_?"

"Why do you care?"

Diego's scowl turned into a frown. Usually Luther would spit those kinds of words at him, today he said them with a sigh.

"I don't know."

Luther nodded, sidestepping Diego to head downstairs.

Diego allowed it, continuing to the showers.

The hot water helped dispel the memories of the cold swimming pool, even if it couldn't wash away the bruises encircling his ribs. He'd kept the bathroom window shut and the extractor fan off, the room swimming in steam by the time he pulled back the shower curtain.

"Fuck, Klaus!" He yelped, snatching a towel from the rack to cover himself up with.

"No thanks, maybe later." Klaus said airily, wafting away Diego's complaint. "And if you're going to use my future name, you need to keep your voice down."

"What the hell are you doing in here?" Diego snapped, ensuring the towel was secure around his waist before approaching Number Four.

His brother was sat on the closed toilet seat, leaning his head back against the cistern with his eyes half shut.

"There's a ghost in my room. Ugly thing too – death by train. Head first." Klaus shuddered for effect. "However he looked _before_ the 'accident' was not improved upon. Accident," he scoffed, "I don't know who he's trying to fool."

"Then go to B-Ben's room!"

"Ghost in there too – though I didn't want to point it out. This old lady. I often saw her around the Academy but she never talks. Must have died somewhere in the area."

Diego gritted his teeth. "Why are you in _here_? While I'm h-having a shower!"

"I'm not a peeping tom if that's what you're implying." Klaus retorted. "You need to get over yourself you know, you're not that impressive. Especially not at this age."

"_Four_!"

Klaus held up his hands. "Fine. When I'm being haunted, I tend to get cold. I used to warm up with a pill or two chased down by some whiskey, _but_," he groaned, "since that's no longer an option, I came in here instead where it was nice and steamy."

Diego looked away from Klaus' wink, moving over to the sink. He cleared away the condensation with his palm before setting to work combing his stubborn hair.

"Have you seen him yet?" He asked conversationally. Tilting his head back and forth he looked for new hairs on his chin out of habit, even though he knew it would be another two years before he had to worry about shaving.

"Who?" Klaus asked, sounding tired.

"The soldier."

"Dave." Klaus corrected dreamily. "_Sweet_ Dave."

His hands moved to his neck, searching for dog tags which were no longer there.

"Well?" Diego pushed, as Klaus seemed to fall into a daydream.

"No. I can't, not yet. I had hoped that Dad's insane training would help me conjure him but so far his medieval techniques have had no effect."

"You still sober?"

"_Yes_. Would I be able to do this if I weren't?" He asked, holding out his steady hand. It didn't fail Diego's attention that his nails were bitten deep into their beds, the surrounding skin nearly raw from scratching and clawing.

"You'll be able to conjure him. It's only a matter of time."

"Time." Klaus sighed. "Maybe I can't. Does the time jump mean I haven't technically met him?"

Diego shrugged. "Ask Five."

Pulling a face, Klaus determined that would be a depressing talk.

"I guess this means your lady love isn't dead either. Some small silver lining." He commented. "And I guess if you lot don't let me get kidnapped this time she might stay that way."

"Eudora." Diego said gruffly.

"That's the one." Klaus said, waving a finger at him. "Such a pretty name."

A pretty name. A pretty name which reminded him what a failure he was. He didn't realise his brother had been kidnapped, too busy yelling at Vanya for not being clairvoyant and knowing she would get caught up in an ambush. Then he turned up too late for Eudora, out there taking care of something that was his responsibility, not having her back when she went to rescue Klaus even though she had called for him.

"Yeah."

Diego opened the door, intending to return to his bedroom to get dressed.

"You coming?" He said, pausing when he realised Klaus hadn't moved.

"Nah, I think I'll stay in here a while longer."

Not sure he wanted an answer, especially if the answer was no, Diego asked: "Is it q-quiet in here?"

Klaus paused before replying. "Yep."

Eyes narrowing, not liking the slight tilt of amusement around Klaus' mouth, Diego cast a suspicious eye around the room even though he couldn't see ghosts.

"All right. Do you want me to go get Six?"

"I think you'll find I was his keeper – not the other way around."

Diego stayed there until Klaus clarified: "_No_."

"Okay. See you later, I guess."

Klaus held up his left hand, even though the word goodbye was not yet written there.

After he got dressed, Diego felt at a loose end. Part of him felt like he should go back to the bathroom and check on Klaus, but he knew that grief sometimes demanded its solitude and he decided that if Klaus wanted him he'd find him again.

He headed downstairs, wondering what Mom was up to.

On his way to the kitchens however, his attention was once again caught by Luther who was now moping in the library.

"Studying?" Diego asked, flopping on the couch.

"Just reading." Luther said uncomfortably, sinking further into his seat like he was embarrassed. Diego hadn't seen him acting so evasively since he tried to hid his ape-bod from them all.

Picking up a book from the table, Diego scanned the cover.

"An Introduction to Qu-Quantum Mechanics. Sounds _fascinating_." He said, dropping the book back down with an echoing thump. "You're not turning into Five are you, because if I end up with two of you giving me weird, science r-ridden, nonsensical explanations about all the weird shit involved with this jump..."

Luther stopped him. "No. That stuff goes over my head too."

"Thank god." Diego groaned, propping his feet up on the table. "So, what's up? You've been acting weird. Or should I say w-weirder?"

"I've just been reassessing. Everything that's gone on with Vanya. Dealing with everything Dad did. Five coming back. Klaus getting abducted. Allison nearly dying. Trying and _failing_ to stop the apocalypse. Jumping back in time. Ben coming back to life. Trying to act like everything's normal when it's not. Helping Seven remember. Helping Allison deal with losing Claire..."

Diego had known Luther for a long enough time to know whatever issue he put at the end of his worry lists was often the most important. He did that when he gave mission briefings. Not really wanting to say he was nervous about something, not when he was meant to be the authority figure, so he'd just slot it into a list thinking they were all oblivious to the way he would frown as he tripped over the real issue.

"You and Allison aren't," Diego moved his hands wordlessly while pulling a face, "_again_, are you?"

"_No_. We never..." Luther cut himself off with a sharp cough. "I think she wants to talk to Seven about it the most but she can't. She only talks to me because she has no other choice. I just feel so useless."

"Yeah, you do have an over-inflated sense of importance." Diego deadpanned.

Luther shot him a confused look.

"What I _mean_ is, there's nothing you _can_ do. Claire isn't born for, what – thirteen years? Fourteen years? How old is Claire? You know, n-not important. What I'm saying is _right now_ there is no solution to Allison's problem. She's got at least ten years before there's anything she can do."

"Nine years," Luther corrected him, "Allison married Patrick nine years from now."

Diego mouthed a 'wow', but was able to keep his comments on their freaky relationship internal.

"Yeah it's gonna suck, and she'll need help getting by without her kid. But there's no physical action you can t-take here – all you can do is listen to her and be here, I guess."

"I'm trying to. I want to be a better person this time around." Luther confessed. "Last time I only ever cared about impressing Dad. I don't think I even realised what an ass I was to the rest of you until we came back. Every time I go near Seven she seems to jump out of her skin like she thinks I'll attack her."

"I think we're all a bit guilty of being too hard on Seven. Christ, how many times did I steal her violin?"

"And my records." Luther added.

"Only the crap ones. Which, gr-granted, were the majority."

"_Thanks_."

"Well, I guess if I was feeling charitable I would say you're doing an all right job. You know, at being less of a self-centred, egotistical, insufferable ass hat." Diego shrugged.

"All right, huh?" Luther asked, a pleased smile making a small appearance.

"You're still insufferable like ninety percent of the time though, Chewbacca."

"We're the same size." Luther said, clearly happy to be back in his old body.

"For now. Unfortunately I remember puberty quite v-vividly, you got about four inches on me."

"More like six." Luther amended smugly.

"Did I say ninety percent of the time? I meant ninety-five." Diego groaned. "Now are you going to keep reading this boring crap or are you going to join me for a few rounds in the training room?"

"Yeah okay. You know I meant to say before – in the future, past..." Luther frowned, trailing off.

"I don't know how to describe it either." Diego huffed. And he sure as hell wasn't asking Five what the correct verb was, that would just end in a lecture culminating in him being called an idiot.

"Anyway, when we were fighting together again, I thought you did a good job. I mean you always did, but you look like you've picked up some new moves."

Diego smirked, not willing to admit how much the compliment affected his ego. "I might've learned a few things at the police academy."

"How come you ended up doing the whole vigilante thing instead?" Luther asked curiously.

"Got kicked out." Diego shrugged, still annoyed with himself for that particular failure. "I think growing up listening to Dad sprouting off all that shit about cops being useless gave me a complex when I was in the academy."

"Oh. Well, for what it's worth, I think you would have made a good cop."

"Thanks. Maybe this time around I could keep my ego in check long enough not to get kicked out before graduation." Diego mulled.

"I think things will be better this time." Luther said, his tentative tone belying his words of encouragement.

"I'm not a masochist; I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't to make the f-future better."

"We'll stop the apocalypse this time, Diego."

Both of them wanted more than that.

* * *

Two down, five more to go. Two/Diego was the one I struggled most with so hopefully the others will come easier to me. I know I'm in a very small minority but I never warmed to Diego in the show - I think because I liked Vanya too much as he was quite harsh towards her, plus I think Eudora was unfairly fridged solely to launch his character arc and that storyline seemed a bit clunky and forced to me. There's way too much fridging in the superhero genre! I did enjoy his friendship with Klaus though. And I wanted to add a scene with Luther as the last chapter focused a lot on their competition. Three/Allison next - I'm aiming to get hers finished this week although I do have a very busy work schedule ahead, but I'm determined to make time. Please let me know what you all think, I'm always happy to debate the sins and virtues of the TUA characters. Plus I just love hearing from you all, I'm very lucky to have such lovely readers. Until next time 3


	5. Number Three, Lust

_Lust. Quite similar to greed and envy, however it's often connected with sexual or romantic desire._

* * *

"We have established your ability to rumour people into physical actions. Today we will work on your ability to alter people's mental perceptions, Number Three. Specifically, emotions."

"Emotions?" Three asked curiously.

"You could make a criminal feel repentant." Dad explained. "You could help a hostage stay calm. There a variety of applications such a skill could have."

"Okay." She agreed, glancing at her siblings. As Dad had instructed Seven to join the group in the training room, Three guessed that meant she would use her abilities on them for today's practise.

Dad handed her a small drawstring bag.

"You will choose a slip at random. On each piece of paper is a rumour which will induce an emotional response in your subject. Number One will go first. Read the words exactly as is written. I have made minor alterations amongst the commands to establish which phrases produce the most significant effect on the subjects and trigger the strongest emotions. On the back of each slip is a counter-instruction which should return the subject to normal."

Three had practised using her powers on the others for years, but that didn't stop some uncomfortable shuffling amongst the siblings as the exercise began. She looked at them, unimpressed by the response. It wasn't like she had never suffered as a result of their individual training before – she still had a scar on her shoulder from Two's early sessions. At least the consequences of her powers could be easily undone.

One stepped forward. She was grateful Dad had selected him to go first – not that there was really any question about the order, it was always numerical. But One was always willing to help her improve her powers. If it was voluntary he'd still go first.

He walked towards her, always brave and confident, his arms folded behind his back as he looked at her unquestioningly.

She blindly pulled out the first slip of paper, sending up a silent prayer that One received a good emotion. She didn't like the idea of hurting him, even though she knew that he would never complain.

Reading the words verbatim, as Dad had instructed, Three said: "I heard a rumour that you feel happy."

One felt an expanding warmth grow in his chest that spread to every part of his body, dispelling a cold chill he hadn't even been aware of before the warm invaded.

Three saw the biggest smile she had ever seen on the stoic Number One's face blossom instantly, his mouth stretched wide to reveal his glistening teeth, and Three felt her cheeks heat up in response. He had such an attractive smile; why didn't he smile like that all the time? It made him look so handsome.

She wished she could see him this happy every day.

Dad was making notes in his book, asking questions as his pen scrawled across the page. "How do you feel, Number One?"

"Incredible." One beamed. His smile still hadn't faded, just as wide as when it first bloomed. "Everything's perfect."

"Number Two," Dad called, "attack Number One."

"Yes, Father." Two replied, stalking forward and engaging Number One.

One defended himself yet his grin never budged, even when Two's fist successfully connected with his abdomen. No grunt of pain escaped. If anything he almost seemed pleased by Two's achievement.

"That's enough." Dad said, Two instantly dropping back and returning to his place beside the others.

"Number Three, the counter-rumour."

Turning over the slip of paper still in her hands, Three saw the counter-rumour as Dad called it was written in blue in as opposed to black.

"I heard a rumour that your feelings are your own."

The smile slowly faded. He wasn't sad, he was simply back to normal. Yet seeing him lose his grin made Three feel almost mournful – she wanted to see him wear it again.

"How do you feel, Number One?"

"Fine." He shrugged.

"Do you remember how you felt a few moments ago?"

"Yes, Father. I felt happy. _Really_ happy." He clarified.

Dad continued to write. Only when he stopped did he dismiss One and call Two forward again.

Rooting around the bag, Three pulled out another piece of paper.

"I heard a rumour that you're exhausted."

It was comical how quickly Two's eyelids dropped, and Three had to suppress a giggle behind her hand. The tiredness overtook him faster than he could process, his brain too fried to realise the exhaustion was caused by a rumour. He seemed to sway on the spot, his mouth stretching wide for an uncontrollably large yawn.

Two glanced around him, knowing he had to lie down before he fell down, his eyes settling on one of the mats which he trudged towards with his mind set to go to sleep on it.

Dad watched Two go, his eyes tracking him as he laid down and fell asleep at once.

Three flipped the piece of paper over but found there was no counter-rumour.

"We will leave Number Two asleep to see how long the rumour lasts on him."

"What if he doesn't wake up?" Four asked uneasily.

"The human body can still hear even when it is in a deep REM cycle. Number Two will respond to a rumour if I deem it necessary." Dad said, unconcerned. "Number Four."

Four moved towards Three, shooting a hesitant look towards Six who only frowned in response.

"I heard a rumour that you feel sad."

All at once there was an unmoveable burden which weighed him down, a sadness for which his brain could find no cause. Everything was wrong; nothing was right. Four tried to shake himself clear of it but the unhappiness stayed with him, no matter how many happy thoughts he tried to cling on to. Unlike One and Two, Four didn't show a great outward change from the rumour except for the hunching of his shoulders and the downturn of his lips.

"Four?" Three asked, concerned by his reaction.

He glanced at her but soon looked back towards Six instead.

Six rocked on his feet, torn between going over to Four and maintaining his place as Dad would want him to.

"How do you feel, Number Four?"

"Sad." Four said unhelpfully.

Three stared at him. She'd seen Four upset plenty of times: sometimes he would withdraw, other times he would turn to the closest of them and demand a hug, sneak a sip of scotch from Dad's study, or cry. Now, under the influence of her rumour, he just stood there.

Dad had explained this though, it was all down to how she worded them.

Flipping over the piece of paper, Three waited for Dad's approval before saying the counter-rumour.

Four's eyes brightened, and he turned from her with a smile, though it fell short of his eyes.

"Number Five."

Face impassive, bordering on complete apathy, Five walked over to her.

Three pulled out the next slip of paper, hoping to produce something that would ruffle the feathers of the Academy's most typically unflappable fifth member.

She was thoroughly disappointed.

"I heard a rumour that you are confident."

Five gave her a toothy grin.

_Seriously, Dad?_

"How do you feel Number Five?" Dad asked, a hint of exasperation to his tone. Evidentially he was disappointed by Three's random selection too.

"Pretty normal." He said.

When Dad's attention returned to his notebook, Five chanced shooting a wink at Seven who returned the gesture with a timid smile.

Three watched the silent exchange and felt a typical flair of annoyance. Five rarely gave her, or One, the time of day – what made Number Seven so special and always worthy of his attention? When she'd tried to ask for Five's help with her science homework yesterday he'd openly laughed in her face. Undoubtedly if _Seven_ had asked him he would've said yes, she thought with an exasperated sigh.

The next piece of paper produced one she was nervous to use on Six, The Horror, but a glance at Dad who she subtly showed the paper to, earned her a nod to continue.

Six watched the exchange cautiously; an ever increasing sense of dread taking over, only to be overwritten by Three's command.

"I heard a rumour that you feel angry." She said. Her rumour lacked its usual confidence, as her nervousness over how Six's anger could manifest caused her voice to falter.

Scowling, Six crossed his arms tightly over his abdomen – as if his feeble arms would be enough to hold back the powerful eldritch. He could feel them threaten to tear through his fragile skin, ready to rip apart Three and Dad. One was uselessly trying to position himself near Seven as if he could shield her should his powers spiral out of control. Didn't they understand he could kill them all where he stood? Didn't they understand that because of their stupidity he now wanted to?

"Why did you do that?" He yelled at her, prompting Three to take an instinctive step back. "Are you stupid?"

"Six." Four called worriedly from the sidelines.

"Undo it." Six said through gritted teeth. "_Now_! Before you're too dead to."

Three didn't wait for Dad's say-so. Flipping over the piece of paper she said: "I heard a rumour that you feel calm."

Six's growl died in his throat. While his shoulders dropped and his scowl disappeared the resentment lingered in his eyes and, without asking for permission, he stalked out of the room.

Dad let him. Six was the only one who had standing authorisation to leave if he ever felt he needed to. She supposed it made sense.

Three waited while Dad made his notes on Six, glancing at Seven who only had eyes for the bag held in her hands.

Five, whose smugness had faded with Six's outburst, noticed her gaze and ducked his head to speak in her ear.

After Dad gave her the go-ahead, Three dug the final piece of paper out of the bag as Seven nervously came to stand before her.

"I heard a rumour that you are terrified." She said, verbalising the words written on the slip in Dad's handwriting. She only processed the words as she spoke them, quickly glancing at Seven as she finished.

Seven's eyes widened, her skin prickling, pulse racing, cold sweat beading, hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. There was no source to her fear, making the emotion even more overwhelming. The instinctual need to run was too strong for her to deny and she sprinted for the first exit she spotted in her frenzied surveillance of the room. She categorised everyone inside as a threat, logic overridden by the rumour, and she was careful not to run too close to them – even leaving a wide margin around Five; the only one to move towards her.

Three stood frozen as she watched Seven's response to her rumour.

Five teleported to the doorway, blocking her escape. The speed of Seven's run coupled with his hasty materialisation sent them both slamming to the floor, Five taking the brunt of the impact with a screaming Seven held in his grasp.

He burned under the unimpressed glare from Dad but fought to keep his arms around Seven, muttering reassurances while maintaining an almost challenging stare at their Father – expecting him to challenge his independent decision to comfort Seven during the midst of Three's training.

"Seven, it's me." He yelled, frustrated as she thrashed against him. Three hoped he wasn't holding her too tight; they were always warned that Seven was more fragile than the rest of them. She didn't want to see her get hurt.

"Five?" Seven gasped, her head burrowed into his neck even as her limbs continued to try to escape him.

"_Yes_. You're fine, nothing is going to hurt you. Three will undo it now."

Three glanced at Dad. He showed no sign of what he wanted her to do so, after a second, Three tentatively inched towards the pair.

Dropping to Seven's side, she spoke into her ear: "I heard a rumour that you feel relaxed."

Seven's gasps cut off and her pained expression vacated, leaving her face blank.

"Seven, can you get up?" Five asked, pulling her to her feet without waiting for a response.

Three hovered uselessly, watching him guide her over to some stacked mats to take a seat.

Dad didn't pass comment, still writing in his book. He didn't need to ask her questions, Three could see how much more effective her rumour was on Seven rather than Six. Was that down to the phrasing or their personality? Seven wasn't like them. She was ordinary. Maybe that made her rumours more effective on her? Or maybe it was the wording – she said terrified instead of afraid. If she'd told One he was ecstatic rather than happy would she have seen a stronger response? If she'd told Four he was miserable rather than sad?

How long would the emotion last if she didn't use a counter-rumour? Forever? Dad seemed to think that Two would wake up on his own – was that because her rumour would eventually wear off or because sleep would cure the exhaustion? When they were younger and she'd told Five to shut up, he couldn't speak until she undid it at Dad's order. If she hadn't, would he still be silent now?

Not for the first time, Three basked in the knowledge of how powerful she was. Sure her brothers had more offensive powers they could use in the field, but she could manipulate people's _realities_. Make them do anything she told them to – people would kill for a power like that!

Unlike the others she always looked forward to one-to-one training with Dad. After nearly every session she found out something new about herself and another limit to what she could do fell.

She truly believed she had the best power of them all. She would never want for anything; one simple rumour and she can have _anything_.

Three knew when she talked about being an actress to her siblings' they rolled their eyes at her dream but she _knew_ it would happen. How could it not? She would get any part she wanted.

She would have the job, the fame, the money, the clothes, the power. A big house on a famous street where, like the Academy, people would hover outside hoping to see her. And after today she wondered whether her powers could get her that one other thing she wanted. The one thing she wanted above all else.

Love. True, _unconditional_ love. The kind they never knew within the walls of the Academy.

Glancing at One she wondered, as she often did, whether he loved her. Now she wondered whether she could make him.

He wasn't looking at her. His arms were crossed behind his rigid back, his eyes fixed on Dad waiting for his next set of commands. Dad's words were the only ones he ever cared about, but with one rumour the words he hung on would become hers. It was a tempting thought.

Three was accustomed to getting what she wanted. And she knew when she didn't, or someone else got something she didn't, her temper could get the better of her.

In this case though, she was _trying_ to be patient.

She'd read the romance books; the ones she'd rumoured from the bookstore assistant on an old mission. At the start it was all shy looks and nervous flirting but she was ready for the rest now. Only One didn't seem to be.

He must have felt the weight of her stare because he glanced at her while Dad's back was turned, giving her a soft smile which made her heart flutter like the girl's heart always fluttered in the stories.

'Are you okay?' One mouthed at her.

Nodding, Three grinned back at him.

Perhaps she could be patient a little while longer.

* * *

Sorry about the delay, I've been feeling a bit under the weather - so if you see any typos that's why!

Well for each chapter I aim for 2,000 words and this one went a bit over. I know it's an Allison chapter but I wanted a little paragraph to show how each sibling responds to the rumours as well so you could see the effectiveness. In my mind 'you *are* X [e.g. angry]' would be more effective than 'you *feel* X (e.g. sad)', which is why Seven's reaction is stronger than Six's. Anyway, the next chapter will be posted in just a moment once I read it through one more time.


	6. Allison, Chastity

_Lust's corresponding heavenly trait is chastity. Abstinence (usually from sex, but in this case rumours) on the basis of moral grounds._

* * *

"Hey Seven." Allison greeted in as warm a voice as she could muster. She knew, _she knew_, how Vanya would react to her innocent greeting but she couldn't let herself get annoyed. Not this time.

"Hi." Seven mumbled, ducking her eyes behind her bangs just as expected.

"Did you have a good night's sleep?" She asked patiently, watching Vanya fiddle with the hem of her god-awful skirt. Honestly, when they finally made their way out of their renewed childhood Allison would gather every piece of Academy uniform and throw it on a bonfire.

"Yes, thank you." Seven replied, asking the question in return after a pregnant moment.

"Yep." Allison chirped, grimacing as soon as she spoke. That was a lie. She'd had an awful night's sleep. She always did, and the events of yesterday certainly hadn't helped.

They sat in silence at the table, Allison glancing at the doorway in a desperate hope that one of the others – ideally not Five – would swoop in and assist her, but she knew they wouldn't. They'd already agreed to delay their arrival to breakfast so she could have a chance to talk to Vanya about the previous night alone. An agreement which had made perfect sense when it was made.

It frustrated her to no end to admit it, but Ben and Five had been right – even Luther had said as much. Their plan to tell Vanya about the future had backfired horrifically. They should have just eaten their donuts and then gone to bed, except, as always, Allison's own selfishness had gotten the better of her. Things had been going so well; Seven had talked to her, smiled at her, walked with her as they headed back home. But she was so desperate for Seven to know the truth, to no longer be on the outside of their secrets, their missions, their _lives_. And that desperation was all it had taken to send her careening back into her old ways – with a not so helpful push from Diego.

Well, it was too late to put the genie back in the bottle now.

It was now up to Allison, Klaus and Diego to fix their mess. Not exactly the dream team for helping Vanya, but Ben had made it clear the others wouldn't help. Hopefully they wouldn't screw up any further.

"_So_..." she started tentatively, "about last night."

Vanya tried to hide further beneath her hair and Allison had to bite her tongue for a second to resist the urge to rumour her into looking up.

"Yes." Vanya mumbled, when Allison didn't continue.

"Look, I know you didn't believe us – but I _swear_ we _are_ telling the truth." Allison insisted.

Glancing towards the door, Vanya hopefully looked for Five or Six but, unfortunately for her, Diego and Klaus had conspired to keep them occupied upstairs for the next few minutes. There was no way they were being...

"Three, what are you doing to Number Seven now?" Five said disapprovingly, materialising behind his chair.

Fucking Diego and fucking Klaus, Allison thought with a barely suppressed groan.

"_Five_." Allison said sharply. "I'm trying to have a conversation with my _sister_."

"I'm always up for sibling talk," Five said, ignoring Allison's derisive snort, "want to catch me up, Ven?"

Vanya unnecessarily straightened the cutlery beside her plate. "Three was telling me they were telling the truth last night."

"We _were_." Allison persevered, pointedly ignoring Five's hard glare. "You have to believe me."

"Or what?" Vanya asked, finally looking at her as she pleaded. "You'll rumour me? You're taking this prank too _far_, Three. Why can't you just leave me alone? What have I done to you?"

Allison blinked and shot a sharp look at Five. Seven _never_ spoke to her that way.

Five pointed at Seven with a shit-eating grin, "My 'saying no' lessons are going well, aren't they? Next week I was thinking we'd move onto cursing."

"I already know how to curse." Seven muttered, prompting Five's smirk to grow.

"_Seven_..."

"You heard her, Three. Drop it." Five instructed.

Allison's lip curled. "Butt out, Five."

"Act your age not your number, _Three_."

His condescending retort only made her madder.

"I won't lie to her."

"No, you're just going to push her away." Five rejoined, quirking an eyebrow at her. "Is that what you want?"

Looking at Seven for any sign that her words had affected her, she saw that her sister was resolutely looking at her empty plate.

Two rumours and she could take care of this entire mess. One to send Number Five on his merry way and another to make Vanya remember everything. And she meant _everything_, including all the memories she took away with her first suggestion.

Of course that would mean Vanya would remember her original sin. Her hand wanted to reach for her throat.

Would she react the same way as before?

Everything had gone so horribly wrong that week. Allison was the first to stand up and admit her responsibility in that. She shouldn't have confronted Vanya in such a way, not when her powers were so raw. Her revelation should have been saved, her priority should have been getting Vanya out of the house. Something she had tried to do, as always with the wrong means. With a rumour.

Vanya had only been protecting herself.

Allison used to think herself so powerful, that she had the best power of them all, but now she knew how easy it was to be rendered utterly powerless. One strike of a bow.

The same mistakes couldn't be made again.

Five recognised the look of defeat in her eyes, dropping his hostility and turning to Seven with the determination to start a pleasanter conversation.

"More painting today?"

Seven shook her head, offering them a tentative smile when she saw that Allison would let the former topic slide. "Mom said I could try Russian for a few weeks. It looks difficult but..."

"You'll do great, Ven." Allison assured. "You're already practically fluent in French."

"Hardly, but thanks, Three." Seven replied, smiling wider. "But I hope so. Otherwise Mom will have downloaded all that information for nothing."

"There's no such thing as useless information." Five stated.

"Can you name all six current and former members of Destiny's Child, because I can." Allison said with a smirk.

"I rescind my previous statement."

"Good morning, children." Grace said, coming to stand inside the room which could only mean Dad wasn't too far behind. "Are your siblings' up?"

"Yes, Mom." Allison reassured. "They were just talking upstairs, I'm sure they'll be down any second now."

"I had better go check on them." Mom said, a slight frown marring her delicate features. "I would hate for them to be late."

She watched Mom leave but stayed cautiously quiet, knowing Dad could turn up at any moment.

Five was muttering something to Seven but Allison couldn't hear them clearly from the other end of the table, so she decided to leave them be.

"Good morning." Luther said as he walked in.

"Morning, One." Allison greeted, a sentiment surprisingly echoed by Vanya.

Ben walked in, throwing an annoyed glance over his shoulder at Klaus and Diego who walked in unapologetically behind him.

Breakfast was uneventful as always, Dad's record of choice today featuring a lesson on proper gun maintenance.

_Delightful_.

She had training afterwards, as always, with the other five, and headed to go change into her uniform. Dad actually seemed to be contemplating a return to their original uniforms for mission work rather than the jumpsuits, a decision they were all determined to sway in their favour. They'd all made a pact to take as long as they could possibly get away with when getting changed to illustrate to him how stupidly complicated the jumpsuits were.

"Well?" Diego called in a scarcely contained whisper, him and Klaus closing in on her as they left the dining room.

She shook her head, knowing full well what Diego was asking about.

"Seven still doesn't believe us."

"_Shit_."

"I can't believe I missed everything last night." Klaus whined. "I get to listen to One drone on and on about space rocks, but when shit goes down it's only _after_ I leave the room? Couldn't you have sprung the a-bomb on her before I went to bed?"

"We _had_ agreed to wait until today." Allison pointed out in a sing-song voice she knew Diego hated.

"Would it have gone any b-better?" Diego snapped back.

"Can't you just rumour her into remembering?" Klaus asked again. "It would solve like, _literally_, all of our problems. Besides, you know, being stuck in our pre-pubescent bodies under the thumb of our deranged psychotic father while hiding from some apparently all powerful time travelling space cops. But everything apart from that," he clicked his fingers, "totally solvable."

"I'm not saying this again; I'm not rumouring Seven. I'm not rumouring anyone! Not unless I _have_ to." Allison insisted.

She couldn't deny the temptation to herself but she was adamant when talking to the others. _Obviously_ she wanted Vanya to _know_, she was _dying_ to talk to her about everything that happened. She wanted to help her deal with what happened with Harold, to make sure she knew she had forgiven her for what happened in the cabin, to beg forgiveness for leaving her in that cage, to talk to her about Claire. Her baby. Her angel.

A rumour could make her remember, Allison was sure.

Vanya had no reason to fear her this time though, she'd vowed to herself that she wouldn't tell one again. Unfortunately there would be no getting around Dad making her tell rumours on missions. All she could do then was choose her words carefully and avoid causing unnecessary damage.

"So what? We're just going to leave her to find out on her own again? That didn't exactly go swimmingly last time."

"We need to tell her." Diego added forcefully.

"This isn't about us. It isn't about me either. It's about her." Allison insisted. "I _know_ you want to leave. Okay, we all know. We _all_ feel the same way. Being here – sometimes it feels like literal hell. Sometimes, sometimes I feel like hell is what we deserve." She added under her breath.

"Look we did it our way, it didn't work. We do it Five's way now." She glanced between them for a sign of agreement. "_Okay_?"

"Fine." Klaus agreed after a beat, holding his hands up in surrender before he strolled away.

Diego still looked gloomy but even he knew when to give up.

"I'm not h-happy about this."

"That makes seven of us."

He marched off up the stairs, overtaking Klaus who was casually sauntering along despite knowing Dad was waiting for them all.

Allison hurried to get ready, not in the mood to make today any more intolerable than it needed to be. Nevertheless when the zip on her ankle jammed, she took the opportunity to seek Vanya out again.

She was careful to keep her tone light and conversational, still upset that Seven thought she had tried to hurt her last night and that – for now – there was no way for her to convince her otherwise.

"Hey, Seven. Help a girl out would you? Dad's waiting." She asked, propping her leg on the edge of her bed. "I always do this. I think it's plotting against me."

Standing up from her bed, Seven came over to help her – happily abandoning her calculus homework for later.

"I really hope Dad switches us back to the uniforms," Allison continued, despite complaining about them earlier, "it makes life so much easier. Plus it's nicer, we all look the same that way."

Seven frowned.

"I mean, because you wear the uniform too."

"I don't have a mask." Seven pointed out as she fiddled with the fastener.

"I never even got why we wore those." Allison sighed. "I mean, people already know where we live and they can look up Dad and see our adoption records. Wearing a mask to protect our 'secret identity'" she air quoted, "always seemed kinda redundant to me."

"Well you're superheroes. Superheroes wear masks."

"What's that saying – not all superheroes wear capes?" Allison pointed out, determined that Vanya shouldn't feel undervalued again just because she's not officially an Academy member.

"Oh well, I think the capes would definitely be overkill." Seven snarked, taking her by surprise again.

"Five's really good for you isn't he?" Allison stated.

Her sister shrugged. "I think Dad would call it a negative influence. Though he'd probably say that's what I'm having on _him_, not the other way around."

"Yeah well," Allison drawled, "Dad's aren't always right."

Seven nodded, her hands pulling away from her ankle. "You should get downstairs, he'll get angry if you keep him waiting."

Offering a tight smile, Allison had to agree. "I'll see you at lunch."

"See you."

Allison shut the door behind her, pausing before it met the frame. "Love you, sis."

Seven stared at her dumbly as the door fully closed.

* * *

This is set the morning after Hundreds and Thousands. So if you haven't read that one I'll catch you up: Allison and Diego told Vanya about the future, she pretended not to believe them and ran off. Oh, and Ben found out that Vanya remembered everything later on. Catch up over :)

So, do you agree with the Lust/Chastity choice for Allison? Well if not, too late I've already published it :P So this leaves a toss-up of Envy or Gluttony for Klaus or Ben, as Pride has already been confirmed for Five (I mean seriously, what else) and Wrath for Vanya. I felt that writing adult Allison was easier than writing kid Number Three, not sure why. Anyway, Klaus next - I'm sure that'll be a fun challenge ':D

As always I love to hear from you all. Have a great weekend.


	7. Number Four, Gluttony

_Gluttony. Quite similar to lust and envy, traditionally linked to excessive eating and drinking._

* * *

Four got the idea last week when he watched Dad scold Number Seven for talking to Six a moment too long on the stairs.

"Number Seven. Return to your individual practice at once."

"But, Father." She protested. "I'm not due in the classroom for another ten minutes. Mom's still cleaning up in the kitchen."

"Then go assist her." Dad said warningly, watching Seven with an appraising eye. He stopped her as she started to hurry away. "Number Seven. Did you remember your medication today?"

"Yes, Father. Mom gave me it at breakfast." She answered. When Dad said nothing further, she continued down the steps, scuttling towards the kitchen.

"What does Seven take pills for?" Six asked Dad.

"Anxiety." Dad replied dismissively, glancing at the two boys. "Get ready, both of you. Training starts in exactly," he looked down at his watch, "eight and a half minutes and tardiness will not be tolerated."

They both mumbled their apologies and hurried up the stairs, Four desperately trying not to stare at the ghost lingering on the landing. So far he hadn't realised Four could see the dead, only wandering the house to look at the artwork, and Four was happy to keep it that way.

"I wonder if those pills even work." Six muttered as they walked to their rooms.

"Huh?"

"Well, Dad says they're for anxiety but if they are they don't do a good job do they?"

"Hmm."

"I mean Seven seems nervous on a good day, doesn't she?"

"Mmm."

"Four, are you even listening to me?" Six sighed as he reached his door.

"I listened to Dad when he said we had eight _and a half_ minutes to get our asses downstairs." Four grumbled.

He had listened though; he'd even started to think. Because if Seven's pills were for anxiety like Dad said, did that mean they could help him too? Dad always went on about how he was useless because he was scared of the ghosts. Maybe anxiety pills would stop him feeling scared, help him relax, then he could actually control seeing them.

The idea of controlling the ghosts was irresistible, and so he started to plan a way to steal one of Seven's pills.

He couldn't chance going to the infirmary as that was too closely monitored. And if he went up to Seven and simply asked if he could fob one she'd tell Six who, in turn, would likely tell Luther, who would _definitely_ tell Dad.

Which, to his mind, left only one option. _Stealing_. Finally, Dad's stealth lessons would pay off.

In the end he was almost disappointed by how easy it was.

After lingering around Seven more than he usually did – unbeknownst to him attracting the suspicion of both Five and Six, who watched him warily in case he was planning a prank on her – he soon found out she kept a spare bottle in her nightstand, which he could easily slip a pill from while her back was turned.

He only felt slightly guilty as he did it, but the ghost lurking in his sister's bedroom made it easier to ignore the unwanted emotion.

"Hey, Seven. Can I look at your history notes? I dropped off in class and missed about half of it."

Seven turned to her desk, shuffling around to find her notes from that mornings' lesson. In the brief seconds it took her to find it, Four had quietly opened her draw, pulled off the top cap, removed a pill – and a second for good measure – before he tidied up after himself, with his sought after treasure safely stowed in his pocket.

"Thanks." He grinned as she passed him her notebook. "I'd better go work on my homework. Later!"

Trying to look casual as he walked back to his room, Four picked up his glass of water – not yet able to dry swallow pills – and took Seven's medicine.

He'd expected quick results, his only previous experience with drugs limited to pain killers and antibiotics, so he was disappointed when – after an hour – he still didn't feel any differently.

It was only when he was partway through training (because isn't that just typical) that it kicked in, and not in the way he was hoping for. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad if he'd been in individual training, however the middle of a sparring session with Number One of all people wasn't exactly an ideal moment for time to do tricks on you.

One was never great at reading people and he failed to notice Four blank expression. Neither did all the other siblings, who were too focused on their own tasks to notice how Four's world seemed to slip into thick mud.

"Four, pay attention." One chastised, as Four barely dodged out the way of his attack. "A criminal won't go this easy on you."

"Yeah." He agreed, his brain unable to supply more words than that.

One launched at him again and this time sent him slamming to the mat. Usually Four would be annoyed by One's complete lack of restraint when it came to using his super strength, but all he could feel then was relief that he was now laying horizontally, even if the fall left him feeling even more dazed. Standing had felt _way_ too much like hard work.

"Four?" One asked, standing over him when he didn't get up. "What's the matter with you, get up. I didn't knock you that hard."

He nudged his leg with his foot. "Come on, Four. You've still got a few more rounds in you."

"Hmm." Four mumbled, blinking heavily. Why did everything seem so slow?

"Father!" One called out nervously. "I think I hit Four too hard. Should I take him to Mom?"

Father strode over to the pair, grasping Four's chin in an iron grip to stare into his eyes.

"Yes. Be careful with his head, he may be concussed."

One gently – well as gently as One could ever do anything – picked him up in both arms and carried him downstairs to the infirmary.

"Mom must be in the kitchen. Stay here," One ordered, depositing Four on the bed, "I'll go get her."

_Stay here_. Four felt like laughing manically, if he were at all capable. Of course he was _staying here_, his legs weren't taking him _anywhere_.

"Four, dear." Mom said a few moments later, appearing at his side. She tenderly probed his head and his eyes started to slide shut as she ran her fingers through his hair looking for any telltale signs of a wound.

"Seven." He slurred, noticing a head of dark hair lurking just beyond their Mom's shoulder. There was more he wanted to say to her, but he forgot almost as soon as he thought up the words.

"Yes, Number Four. Number Seven was helping me make dinner, and I asked her to accompany me to the infirmary in case I needed assistance." Mom explained, picking up a small flashlight. "I will check your pupillary response."

The light shone harshly in his eyes and he sluggishly tried to turn away.

"Seven, will you keep a hold of Number Four's head? I would not want him to move it too much."

With a hold somehow even more delicate than Mom's, Seven lightly placed both hands on either side of his head to keep him still while Mom ran her tests.

"Did you lose consciousness at any point, Number Four?"

"No." He mumbled.

"Any double vision?"

"A little."

"Hmm, well you appear to have a mild concussion but nothing more severe. Has anything else happened today, Number Four?"

Four's eyes slid over to Seven, only returning to Mom after she repeated his name.

"Seven, dear. Will you go check on dinner? I would hate for it to burn." Mom requested, ensuring the two had the rooms to themselves.

"Of course." Seven replied, adding a shy, "Feel better, Number Four," before leaving the room.

"A pill." Four said once the door shut behind her.

"What kind of pill, sweetheart?" Mom asked gently, brushing the hair out of Four's eyes.

"Seven's."

"How many did you take?"

"Two."

"Why did you do that?"

"Dad says they're for anxiety. Thought they'd make training easier."

"Oh." Mom murmured. "Well I would not do that again, Number Four. You should never take someone else's medication. It is always designed for the individuals constitution; another person can react very differently. Seven has been taking her medicine for a long time so she can tolerate a higher dose. For you the dose would have been far too strong. Do you understand?"

He sort of did, though most of her words had scarcely settled on him for a second before drifting away again. At the moment there was only one thing he was clear on.

"And you should not take things from your sister. It is wrong."

"Please. Plea..." he took a breath, "don't tell Dad. He'll be mad."

Mom brushed his hair again tenderly. "It is all right, Number Four. You just have a mild concussion. You will be able to return to training tomorrow. In the meantime, you will stay in the infirmary. I must monitor you overnight to ensure your symptoms do not worsen."

"Thanks, Mommy."

She smiled prettily. "You are very welcome, Number Four. Now please try to rest. I will bring you some supper in a short while. You might feel better once you eat. You know you should not take strong medication on an empty stomach."

Four watched her go and let his eyes slide shut for a while. It was only after he ate he thought to look around the room for the usual spirit who haunted it.

His siblings' wouldn't like to know how many of the spirits' he saw every day in the mansion were regulars, or how interested they were in monitoring the lives of the living. At least as he could communicate with them he could encourage them to fuck off, not that they all paid attention to his requests.

The ghost in the infirmary was one of the stubborn ones. Mateo always went out of his way to see Four whenever he was brought down here, waiting for an opportunity to whisper in his ear about the things he had seen going on in the house. He was _such_ a gossip, but generally harmless.

Lifting his throbbing head, glad that his mind felt a little clearer after eating some dinner, Four looked around the room for some sign of him but he was nowhere to be seen.

So weird. That ghost was _always_ here. Every time Four had been admitted to the infirmary in fact. And it wasn't like ghosts had busy social calendars to drag them away.

"Mateo." Klaus hissed, eyes still searching the room. "I swear to god if you're planning to sneak up on me again, I'll – well I can't physically do anything to you, but I'll, I'll do _something_. Is there a type of music you don't like that I could put on a loop down here? Or maybe there's some food you really love that I could eat in front of you?"

"Mateo?"

"Finally talking to me now, mi amigo?" Mateo said petulantly, rounding the head of Four's bed.

"Gah!"

"Don't act all surprised." Mateo said, his withered face looking vaguely hurt. "I tried to tell you about the robot lady and the sad child but _you_ were the one ignoring _me_. Don't try to butter me up now with promises of music and food."

"You've been here the _whole time_?"

"Where else would I go? I'm not going out there," Mateo said, jabbing his thumb at the window, "it's too depressing out there. You people might be crazy, but at least you're mildly entertaining."

"Get out of here." Four urged.

"Hey, you were the one calling me!" Mateo protested. "But fine, be that way. I was on my way to go talk to the red head in the dining room, anyway. Just wanted to see if you were okay."

"I'm fine." Four said hotly.

"Because if you're not you're always welcome to share the lower levels with me. I'm not that territorial. Not like that banshee in the attic. Geesh, that lady has a real problem."

"You said something about a red head?"

"Oh yeah, wish me luck niño."

"Break a leg." Four huffed, watching the ghost leave.

His head dropped back unthinkingly on the bed and he cursed as he bumped his already tender skull. One really needed to learn how to reign in his strength.

Four glanced at the wall clock, thinking about the time between taking Seven's medicine and seeing Mateo.

It was a solid four hours. Had he seen a single ghost in that time? Now he started to think about it, he couldn't say that he had.

Did that mean there was actually a way out there to stop seeing ghosts?

Man, Dad would be super pissed if he stopped using his powers. Plus Seven would be annoyed if he kept stealing her medicine, although, if it affected her half as much as it affected him, she should consider it a favour.

But on second thought, he didn't want to feel like that again. Even if it meant no more ghosts, he didn't like the idea of being that way a second time. Everything felt too slow, and Four hated it when things went slow. There had to be something else out there that would stop him seeing ghosts for a few hours, but without him feeling all doolally afterwards. And he was determined to find it. Even if it only got him a few hours of uninterrupted sleep or the occasional haunt free day. But ideally he needed something that wouldn't also send him totally loopy too. Something that could give him energy and let him feel happy, which those pills definitely hadn't done.

There had to be _something_ like that. _Right_?

* * *

Okay, so this is less Klaus being greedy and more him starting the path of greed ':D But the story idea tied nicely into my overall series as I had Klaus say before about taking one of Seven's pills, and I liked the idea of showing that. Next chapter will be up shortly, I'll just read it through one more time.


	8. Klaus, Temperance

_Gluttony's corresponding heavenly trait is Temperance. Restraint in the face of desire or abstinence from alcohol._

* * *

It really was, fucking, pissing, shitting, ridiculous. It wasn't even like he was in his adult body. There was no _reason_ for him to be experiencing withdrawal. At this age he was only on pills, nothing even powerful enough to stop him seeing completely the ghosts. But here he was, ready to rip out his hair and scratch off his skin and bite down his on fingernails, anything visceral and painful which could stop him from imagining clambering down the fire escape and running the nine blocks to where he knows his first dealer lives for just a second.

Ben, _Ben _he thought more softly, had promised to keep an eye on him to stop him from bolting but – since he was no longer forced to remain by his side at all times of day – Klaus knew he would be much easier to escape the watchful eye of. Especially as he was also trying to keep his other eye on dear sister Vanya.

Maybe he should ask Diego to tie him up again. Although that could lead to some awkward questions if Dad found him – probably ending in a lecture about how he should have paid more attention in those 'how to get out of constraints' lessons before leaving him there for a few days to drive the message of disapproval home.

"Don't chew on your nails, boy." The unnamed, annoyingly matronly ghost who had recently filled Ben's place as his resident ghoul, said. "It's unseemly. Nails should be neatly trimmed, not gnawed at like a piece of overcooked meat."

"But haunting a kid really is the _height_ of civilisation." Klaus shot back in as snooty a tone as his frazzled brain could produce. Despite his biting response he still removed his fingers from his mouth.

She harrumphed at him and decided she would no longer converse with him, passing through the nearest wall to find someone else to criticise.

"Yeah, who needs you!" He muttered after her, somehow both happy for her absence and annoyed by her abandonment.

Why was it when he _wanted_ to be haunted he received a bumper variety pack of every type of ghost there could be except the one he actually wanted?

He's got the oldie worldy, uppity uppeth her own arseth ghost checked off the list. The accidental death, with water still trickling from her mouth. The purposeful death, with friction marks burned around his throat. He's had the murderers spooking him for the fun of it, hiding in closets trying to give him a heart attack since they can't physically hurt anyone anymore. There're the victims who shout and scream and beg him for a revenge they will never be given. Then he got the creepy children, always asking him to play before asking him awkward questions like why there's always a hole in their chests or why their clothes are so badly ripped. He's even had the diseased – people whose faces are covered in boils, their outfits soaked in bile, teeth half rotten in their mouths.

But so far not one ghostly soldier has appeared. No matter how long he suffers through, Dave shows no sign of looking to visit.

Maybe Dave moved on instead of lingering around. If Klaus were dead, that's what he would do. He doesn't think everyone becomes a ghost, especially after he met Dad.

Always head _towards_ the light, is what he used to say to himself when the gunfire would get a little too intense for comfort. No way in fuck was he choosing to become like _them_, he'd rather risk stepping into nothingness.

With a groan he realised he was chewing on his nails again and forced his arms down to his sides. He needed to get out of his room before he went batshit crazy.

Glancing at the open doors down the kids corridor it surprised him to see Five's door open for once and he couldn't resist poking his head around the frame.

"What do you want, Four?" Five asked without even looking up. How did he always manage to do that?

"Do you have super hearing or something?"

"No. You're just loud." He stated, glancing his way when Klaus stayed silent. "Did you _want_ something?"

He did actually. "Yeah."

Five arched a brow when he didn't continue. Klaus was half tempted to keep being difficult for badness but he knew with Five that would just end with the door colliding with his nose and he was much too pretty to risk that kind of damage to his face.

"I have a question about time."

A quick study of his face must have been enough to convince Five he was being serious for once as he told him to shut the door.

He still sighed as he asked: "So what's this question?"

"I want to summon someone – well two someones, actually. But I want to know if I can or if I can't because it hasn't happened yet." Klaus said, taking a seat on Five's bed. He pulled one of the blankets over his legs as he was still feeling chilled from the latest visitation.

"By all means, make yourself comfortable." Five said, watching him settle down on the bed. "Well I don't know the limitations of your powers, Four..."

"Can you call me Klaus when we're alone? Getting called _Number Four_ again still creeps me out – I don't know how you put up being called Five all the time."

Five shrugged. "I never cared. It's just a name. But you know we should be careful using your future names, the cameras are everywhere."

"I thought the bedroom ones didn't have audio."

"They don't, but I'd never put it past Dad to start putting microphones around the place if he gets suspicious of us. Just because he hasn't done it before doesn't mean he won't this time – the timeline is different now." He pointed out. "So who are you trying to summon? Someone from Vietnam?"

"Yeah, but they're not picking up the phone." Klaus huffed. "Anyway, then I thought maybe they wouldn't respond because I haven't actually travelled back yet."

Five nodded. "Well, I reckon it will be one of three things."

"Okay."

"First possibility is that we've created an alternative universe by changing the past – diverting us from our old timeline. In which case you may never travel back at all, meaning you may have never met this person."

"Second theory?" Klaus asked, chewing on his bottom lip.

"We're in the same universe. In which case, as you've already gone backwards in time, for him it has happened and he should respond to your summons."

Klaus decided he liked that theory the most, but he figured it would be rude not to ask about the third theory.

"Third theory: you just suck at summoning the dead."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Five." Klaus singsonged. "You're the bestest."

"Best." Five corrected.

"That too."

Five groaned, turning back to the notebooks heaped on his desk. "Can I get back to work now?"

"Sure. Wait, hold up, what're you working on?" Klaus asked, hopping up to peer over his shoulder. He didn't care that Five's blanket was now heaped on the floor. "Something to get us out of this lavish hellscape?"

"It's nothing that concerns _you_. Now, why don't you go do something more productive. Maybe try fashioning a Ouija board out of macaroni and craft glue?"

"I may do just that."

If he could ever convince Mom to let him back into the art supply closet.

"Wait," Five called before he could leave the room, "you said you wanted to summon two people. Were they both from Vietnam?"

"No, I wanted to summon a friend of Diego's for him but from what you just said I don't think it would work. She hasn't died yet." Klaus shrugged.

Five nodded knowingly. "This time she shouldn't die at all. Not unless the Commission considers it a fixed time event, though they rarely place that kind of weight on the death of a sole individual."

"For what it's worth your old bosses sound like dickwads."

"I don't disagree with you."

Klaus glanced around Five's bedroom, not ready to be alone again, and noticed for the first time since he had entered the absence of a common fixture. "Hey, where's Vanya?"

"I'm not her keeper, Klaus." He drawled.

Klaus continued to look at him until Five rolled his eyes.

"I _think_ she's practising the piano."

"Ah, her new hobby." Klaus nodded. "She's pretty good considering she's only had it a few weeks."

"Natural talent I'm sure." Five said dryly.

"Of course." He agreed. "I bet she'll be even better once she stops taking those pills. I mean, there's the whole withdrawal part she'll have to go through, _which isn't_ _great_, but I'm sure we can come up with some sort of rehab programme for her. Hopefully something less medieval than mine – somehow I don't see Allison responding well if Diego tied _Vanya_ to a chair." Klaus mused.

"Diego tied you to a chair?"

"_Yeah_. You know you missed quite a lot while you were running around town. And for the record I'm not _endorsing_ tying Vanya to a chair. I mean she'd kill us with it if we tried. Man, her powers really are insane, aren't they?" He chuckled.

"Yeah." Five said thoughtfully. "The other day – when you told me about locking Vanya in the basement..."

"Hey, I told you I objected." Klaus said, half raising his hands in preparation of Five laying into him again. Honestly what did the boy-grandpa expect from him; he'd been in withdrawal and could barely bench-press a small puppy. How was he meant to get around Luther and open a giant metal door?

"Yeah. You also said you once took one of her pills."

"That's right. It made me tired. _Really_ tired. Even after a few days I still felt off."

"How many did you take?"

"Only one, just to try it." He said, not remembering the day very clearly. He was pretty sure he got a concussion that day too, which probably didn't help. "Why, how many does Vanya take?"

"Two a day."

"_Jesus_. And she can still walk? Although," he thought, "I guess given how wacko powerful she is they have to be strong too, right?"

"How did it affect you emotionally?" Five asked, ignoring his theory.

"I dunno. It was _years_ ago, and I didn't exactly take notes."

"Seven once told me they made her feel numb." Five explained. "I still couldn't talk her out of taking them though."

"Dad is such an asshole." Klaus said by way of agreement.

"Yes." Five sighed, turning back to his notebook.

Klaus shut the door behind him when he left but lingered outside Five's room in the hallway for a while, deliberating who to go bug next: Allison, Luther, Ben, Diego or Vanya.

Somehow the deliberation made him want heroin even more than he did an hour ago. Did that say more about _him_ or about his _family_?

An unusually upbeat melody coming from Seven's new music room helped him decide. He could use something cheery.

She grinned when she saw his own smile.

"It's the Flea's Waltz." She explained, picking up her pace to play the tune even faster.

"It's cool." Klaus approved, joining her on the bench.

"It's one of the easiest things you can play on the piano." Seven said, still smiling.

"Easy enough that I could do it?"

"Yeah. Here, we'll play as a duet. I'll take the high notes, you take the low. Just copy me." She encouraged, slowing down and showing him which key to start with.

He copied her, eventually realising that – yes – it was an easy song to play, if even his half chewed fingers could manage it.

The old lady didn't think much about it, commenting that she'd rather '_the girl_' return to her violin in which she was apparently '_better talented_'.

Klaus ignored her.

"Do you have any hobbies, Four?" Seven asked, watching Klaus' progress happily.

Nothing she would be interested in trying. "Not really."

"Maybe you should try one." She suggested hesitantly.

He tapped out the notes again. "How do you feel about helping me steal some craft glue and macaroni?"

* * *

Klaus just had to be Gluttony so I could give him Temperance as his heavenly virtue. So the cat is now out of the bag for the remaining order: Five (Pride), Six (Envy) and Seven (Wrath) - my three favourite characters so I'm looking forward to writing them. I hope you all enjoy what is coming up and that you enjoyed Klaus' chapters. I enjoyed writing adult Klaus but I admit I found Number Four quite difficult. I probably didn't make the ghosts scary enough, given it's TUA, but I've been watching the BBC comedy Ghosts (from which I got the inspiration for the 'matronly ghost' in this chapter) which has a main character who sees ghosts and it got into my head.

As always let me know your thoughts. I'm about to watch the penultimate episode of Chernobyl tonight which always scares me witless so I am not opposed to some happy comments to distract me from the inevitable nightmares ':D


	9. Number Five, Pride

_Pride. The original and often considered the most deadly sin: also known as hubris. The putting of one's own desires, urges, wants, and whims before the welfare of other people._

* * *

He didn't bother knocking, he just appeared.

Seven – no, _Vanya_ (why did he always forget it was Vanya now?) – was used to it by that point. Five teleported into her room all the time and rarely gave her a warning first. She barely glanced up from her homework tonight.

As soon as he'd materialised he'd started to pace the length of Vanya's room, half tempted to kick the walls to alleviate some of his rage as he reached each end.

"Can you believe him?" Five seethed; his question purely rhetorical. "I mean does he seriously think he knows my powers better than _I_ do? He doesn't even _have_ powers, who the hell does he think he is? I _know_ my limitations, I know what I can do. This is something I can do. I _know_ it. I can _feel_ it."

Vanya watched him rant, knowing better than to attempt to calm him down. He always ran out of steam, eventually.

Except today Five felt like he could power a small city with his fury.

"It's just an instinct. I can push through, I _know_ it. I've done all the research, I've worked on my equations. He could let me try a small jump at the very least, just a few minutes, but he won't even let me try that! I thought we were meant to push ourselves to our limits. Why is he so stubborn about this?" Five raved, allowing the power to coat his fingers as he spoke. If he raised a hand now he could do it, he'd tear through. He felt like time was the last true hurdle, once he had done that...well, he felt like he could do anything.

"Fuck, maybe I should just do it, anyway. I don't _need_ his permission."

"_Five_," Vanya hastily spoke up, her voice so soft he barely heard her. But then he always heard her, even when she was humming to herself through their shared bedroom wall; it was almost like he was attuned to her. He still wished she would learn to speak louder though, the others would never listen to her if she didn't.

"I know, I know. He's our _Dad_," Five quoted with air marks, deprecation dripping from his words, "he feeds us, homes us, makes our lives a never-ending nightmare. Why shouldn't we follow his ever fucking stupid rules?"

"He said you could get stuck." She said.

He glanced at her, seeing she had abandoned her work in favour of shooting him the doe eyes.

"I won't get stuck." Five stated, continuing to pace.

She didn't respond, but it was clear she didn't believe him.

"So what, you just want me to give in to him? What's the point of even having powers if I'm not going to use all of them, Vanya?" He asked critically.

"Try something else." She suggested, a whine to her tone that made him look back at her. "Try jumping further. You always said you planned to do that. Why don't you try teleporting outside the city first, or, or to another state? That way even if you do get stuck all you have to do is call us and we can come to get you."

"I only want to jump by a few minutes, Vanya." Five reasoned, trying to make her look at the situation logically. "I'm starting off small, like I did with the spatial jumps. A short distance at a time – I'm not planning on jumping a hundred years right off the bat!"

"Dad still thinks it's dangerous."

"Dad doesn't know everything." Five snapped back. "Are you seriously siding with him instead of me? _Him_. He treats you like shit, Vanya."

He watched her mouth tighten and got the feeling that if Ben were there, he would have just smacked the back of his head. Five was too annoyed to care though. Dad treated Seven like shit. He treated them all like shit really, but he was the worst to her. And what infuriated Five most of all was that, not only did all the other siblings ignore it, but Vanya never complained either. Not even when they were alone.

"I thought you wanted me to get us out of here? Don't you want to leave? Or do you want to stay here constantly being told you're not good enough and to get out of the way?"

"Don't talk to me like that, Five." Vanya managed, her voice trembling. She ducked her head down so her bangs would curtain her eyes. He wanted to brush them aside but chose to quicken his strides instead.

"I _need_ to do this, Seven. I told you I needed to do this. I've improved my spatial jumps. Now I need to time travel. And when I get back, we can start side jumping together. Then we can get out of here. We can go anywhere, to any time. And if we're in any time that means Dad will never find us. Then I can come back and get Six. Maybe Four if he's up to it. Taking the other three might be trickier, they'd be a lot more reluctant to leave..." He trailed off, grumbling a little as he moved, before speaking up again, "but you still want to leave. You'll leave with me, won't you Seven?"

"Vanya." She corrected.

Five felt like swearing but he settled for glaring at his shoes instead, suspecting that Seven – _Vanya_, he corrected, irritated that he kept slipping – was a little too on edge as it was.

When he'd chosen to stay as Number Five, finding the idea of a new name pointless (he already had a name after all – _Number Five_), he'd perhaps been a little arrogant when he presumed Six and Seven would follow suit. In his mind they had always been the most logical Academy members, after himself, and he hadn't considered that, of all of them, Number Seven would willingly get rid of the one thing she was allowed that made her similar to the other six. Her number.

Instead, after Five declared his intention and stepped aside, they had eagerly moved up the line to Mom so they could receive their new names.

Ben.

Vanya.

He hadn't lied when he told them both he liked their names. They were perfectly suitable names. And it was a relief that _Diego_ would now no longer keep bringing up their apparent 'lack' of names in conversation, having finally persuaded Dad (well, persuaded Mom to persuade Pogo to persuade Dad) to give them 'real' names.

It was just an adjustment. Adjustments took time.

"_Vanya_, do you still want to come with me?" He asked, stressing the word Vanya as if the force of his words would help convince his mind it was now her name.

Five came to a stop beside her, looking down at her patiently.

She hesitated for a moment but Five knew she would say yes. What kind of masochist would choose the alternative?

"Yes." Seven breathed. "I want to leave. And I _want_ it to be with you. But I still think time travel is a bad idea. It just seems so dangerous to me, Five."

He opened his mouth, but she shot up and cut him off before he could utter a word. "I know this is important to you. And I know you probably think I can't understand because I don't have powers, but I know _why_ this is important to you. This, this is a part of you. You want to learn about it. But Five," she gripped his hand tightly, "please don't be reckless."

"I'm not reckless." Five scoffed.

"You're the most reckless person I know!" She cried, almost laughing.

Snorting, Five pointed out: "Remind me later to introduce you to the pothead across the hall."

"Five." Vanya moaned, tugging on his hand. "I don't want to lose you."

"You're not going to." Five insisted. "Why can't you just believe in me? When have I ever failed?"

"There was that time you teleported and walked straight into a wall." Vanya muttered.

Why oh why did she have to remember that?

"One time!" Five yelled, choosing to ignore how warm his face now felt.

"I don't see you in training." Vanya shrugged.

"One time." Five stated again.

He wasn't his siblings. Yes, he'd pushed himself too far before but that was nearly always Dad's fault, not his own. Five wasn't like the rest of them, he knew there should always be limits. He _wasn't_ reckless. It frustrated him that Vanya, his best friend, apparently seemed to think he was.

"Don't you know me by now?" Five pleaded, his voice softening in an attempt to sound reassuring. He ran a thumb over her knuckles, displeased to see how bitten and raw the skin around her nails was. "I will not do something stupid. I'm just going to have a little jump through time. Don't overreact."

Vanya's lips downturned. "If you get stuck, it won't just be you who will suffer. We all will."

"I doubt Dad would consider it a great loss." Five dismissed. "Luther would; he'd just take it as confirmation that Dad is always right. Diego and Three, _Allison_, would bitch about it because it means they have to pick up the slack on missions. Klaus will be too doped up to even notice. Ben – _you know_," he caught himself, "this is irrelevant. I am _not_ getting stuck. Dad might act like he's holier than thou but he's not as omniscient as he would like us to think he is."

She nodded, glancing at the corner of her room which was now missing a camera. "Do you really think it's because of Klaus that they're gone?"

"If he's doing even a fraction of the stuff I suspect he's doing in there, _yes_." Five sighed.

He was finding himself increasingly grateful that the odds and evens were on separate sides of the hall. It was something he had never even considered before, but now he knew that without that corridor between them he would have to worry about the fumes escaping Klaus' room every night either knocking him unconscious or making him high too.

He didn't know how Ben and Diego, who had rooms on either side of Klaus, put up with the smell. Never mind the _noises_.

"It is a relief that they're finally gone." Vanya said. "I was always worrying Dad would catch us all sneaking into each other's rooms if he watched the tapes."

"Well he caught Luther and Allison enough times. He's never caught us though." Five said smugly.

"We have an advantage." She smiled.

Five had become a professional at putting the cameras on a loop from a young age, ensuring Dad would never notice he was missing. Or find out what rooms he was sneaking into when the house was dark and quiet.

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment before Five spoke.

He knew it had to be said and it would do no good to ignore it: "I'm not letting it go, Vanya. I will keep asking."

Her shoulders slumped in resignation. "I know you will."

He nodded, squeezing her hand before dropping it. It was getting late.

"Please stay with me." Vanya said, catching his hand before it could fully fall back to his side. "I don't think I'll sleep otherwise."

"Sure." He agreed easily. "I'll come back after lights out, okay?"

"Okay." She exhaled.

Five looked at her curiously for a minute before disentangling their fingers again so he could jump. He didn't want to risk accidentally taking her with him. Not yet. Not until he knew it was safe. Which meant he had to time travel – he had to take that risk and succeed before he would risk side jumping with someone.

Time travelling felt like a certain to Five. He knew he could time travel like he knew the Earth orbited the sun. To him it was an undeniable fact. Yet side jumping didn't feel so concrete to him, perhaps because it felt like it carried more risk.

He'd promised it to Seven so many times. He'd memorised the places she wanted to go. The places Ben wanted to go too. In theory he knew he must be able to do it. After all, he could carry objects with him when he jumped – why not people?

So yes, he could definitely do it. He just needed to time travel first. That was the logical order.

Tomorrow morning. Tomorrow morning he would make Dad see reason.

* * *

This is set the night before Five jumps into the apocalypse. Next chapter will be up in just a tick after I give it a final read through.


	10. Five, Humility

_Pride's corresponding heavenly trait is Humility. Demonstrating bravery, modesty or reverence. Can mean submission to God or to put others above oneself._

* * *

The greenhouse had a workbench pushed against its back wall, right up to the stone of the main house. That same bench had a loose stone beneath it which Five had, decades ago for him, pulled up to dig out a recess underneath before replacing the stone. That recess was now home to several items that, for the sake of their lives, couldn't be discovered by anyone outside of the seven. And even in that restricted circle he would prefer some of the recess' contents to remain for his eyes only.

He went there that evening – early morning, whatever – to dig through the items. There was the liquor he had been siphoning from Reginald's bar into an Umbrella Academy branded thermos, his own face carefully scratched off. A few notebooks which contained the equations he had decided he could never risk Reginald or Pogo finding. The notebook Vanya had given him, containing a duplicate of her section of the red book. A folded photograph he had snatched from Pogo's hidden albums with his illegible scribbles covering its back. A small go bag which contained a few clothes he had stolen from Good Will and some valuables from Reginald's safe. And finally dried foods sealed in the Tupperware Grace had now been in search of for weeks. Just in case.

Today he went for the liquor however he couldn't resist thumbing through Vanya's notebook again, admiring her neat handwriting; it looked especially smart when compared to his own.

He knew for most of them there was something or someone from the future they wished had been brought back with them. Allison wanted Claire. Diego wanted his cop. Klaus kept reaching for dog tags which were no longer there. Even Vanya admitted to him one day that there was a book of poetry Ben had given her shortly before his death that she wished she still had.

For him it was his notebook; Vanya's book, _Extra Ordinary_. It contained so much of his research which he had formulated over his years in the apocalypse. It had also served as a good reminder to him to be less of a reckless moron. After all, it was Vanya's words which had first made him realise it was unlikely he would ever get back home – not before its publication, anyway. And it was her permanently sad eyes on the cover that had reminded him every day of the price he had been left to pay on the account of his uncontrollable ego.

He still wanted to write in it, even though there was hardly any space left in the book for him to write. It was his favourite notebook.

Five took a long sip from the thermos as he tried to get comfortable sitting beneath the bench. He had an odd mixture of gin and scotch in there but, as long as his throat burned and the relentless thoughts flying around his mind slowed for a few hours, he didn't care how it tasted.

Unfortunately he couldn't afford to drink too much with dawn soon approaching; a pity since he rarely had an opportunity to sneak out for a drink anymore since he was usually keeping Vanya company. Still, as Ben had lingered with her after her unexpected revelation, he had a few hours to himself before the morning alarm would sound and he planned to make the most of it.

He'd brought a blank notebook with him and was determined to spend his precious free time working on the problem that was the Commission. Not that he hadn't worked on one already, that is. He'd started working on a plan as soon as they arrived back in time. Not long after they arrived Five had decided he would have to jump again. Once they reached the date he had originally travelled to the apocalypse, only a few months away now, lying low in this time would no longer be a viable option, even if they made Reginald aware of the situation.

Originally he planned to jump forward to 2019 alone – mostly confident that this time he would arrive in an intact city with his family all alive and accounted for (except for Reginald, who would either already be or would very soon be dead by his hand). However Vanya had opposed that plan more strongly than he had anticipated, which meant he had to come up with something else.

To his mind, as he scribbled in the book, that left only two possibilities. Either he attempted to jump all seven of them into another pre-apocalypse time and risk a confrontation with the Commission. Or, he could jump solely with Vanya – the only other member of the Umbrella Academy the Commission would actively pursue – and leave the other siblings to grow safely. It was unlikely the Commission would target the remaining siblings if Five and Seven disappeared; their mission was to preserve the timeline after all, and the remaining members of the Academy all still had important missions to take part in. He wasn't sure how doggedly they would try to uphold Ben's death however, but if it were only him and Vanya on the run their chances of remaining undetected by the Commission improved significantly. If Vanya could keep her powers under control that was, otherwise they just risked moving the apocalypse's date forward or backward by a few decades.

Moving around as thirteen-year-olds would difficult however. He had assets scattered around but those were the odd properties or buried gold bars – assets which would be difficult to liquidate as a teenager without raising some questions.

Still, at the moment they were the only plans he had, and he had already begun preparing to carry them out. Reginald had even, unintentionally, helped him with that by submitting to his demand to exclusively practice side jumping with Seven. Five had used the logical argument, the best type of argument to implement against Reginald Hargreeves, that as he had already successfully jumped with Number Seven, it was better to repeat the parameters of his first successful jump (second successful side jump really, but he didn't need to know that) then to risk jumping with anyone else. Especially the far bulkier, and in Reginald's eyes the more useful, Number One.

His plan had involved a minor lie to Vanya. Five had told her he had involved her in training as he knew she always wanted to take part. While that was in part true, he also needed her to acclimatise to the effects of spatial jumping. If they were under attack from the Commission her powers would become instrumental in their survival, which meant she needed a quick recovery time if she jumped with him. Otherwise a moment of jump induced dizziness or vomiting could spell their deaths.

Five gently shook the thermos to establish how much alcohol remained and decided it was perhaps best he stopped drinking. He had morning training to get through after all and he could only imagine the lectures he would receive from Luther and Diego, and the disapproving looks he would get from Vanya and Ben, if any of them got even the slightest whiff that he had been on the bottle.

Checking his watch, he figured Vanya would still be awake. Knowing her she wouldn't have slept at all after the events of last night.

Deciding to check up her, possibly them if Ben had stayed the night instead of risking sneaking back to his own room, Five reluctantly screwed the cap back on the thermos (making a note to himself to revisit the bar for a top up) and replaced everything beneath the stone. He was careful to ensure nothing looked disturbed, distributing the loose dirt and dust back under the bench to disguise the clean spot he created when he sat down.

Once everything was to his satisfaction, he jumped, first into his bedroom to change into a clean uniform, second to the bathroom to ensure his breath was minty fresh with no lingering aroma of alcohol, and then lastly to Vanya's room.

As predicted she was up, tangled in her blankets, a hand covering her eyes, with Ben nowhere in sight.

"How was it?" He asked. In the old days he would have been worried about startling a too loud gasp from her but he knew she must have heard him arrive.

"Ben?"

"No, how did afternoon tea with the Pope go." He drawled. "_Yes_, Ben."

She shrugged, sitting up in the bed so she could look at him properly. "I think he's more hurt than he let on that I lied to him, but all things considered he's handling it quite well."

"Is he going to tell the others?"

"No." Vanya assured. "I think he's too pissed at them right now for what happened yesterday."

Five couldn't help but grin. "Did you just swear?"

"Shut up," she muttered, rolling her eyes, "I told you I swear."

"So what prompted that spontaneous act of honesty?" Five asked. He took a seat beside her on the bed so they could speak quietly to one another, not wanting to risk raising his voice so early in the day.

"I don't know. I just heard him lingering outside and decided to let him hear everything." She confessed. "Maybe our next training session should focus on impulse control? I don't think I have much of it anymore."

"You always used to have too much before." Five pointed out. "Maybe it's good this time to be a little more open. To talk about things."

Honestly the idea of talking about things made him want to blanch, so he was happy Ben was now in the know. Five could deal with Vanya's power training and Ben could deal with all the raw emotion. He'd been dealing with Klaus' shit for decades, he should be an expert at it by now.

"Ben will want me to tell the others the truth soon. He's worried about the Commission and thinks we need to start working together on a plan." Vanya explained.

"He should be worried about the Commission. We all should be."

"How's your plan for that?" Vanya asked tentatively.

"I'm still not ruling out jumping forward alone again, Vanya. And if we get to that point and I think it's the best thing to do, I will do it." He stated, not sugar coating the truth from her. _He_ wouldn't do that to her.

"But you _are_ working on other plans, right?" She implored.

"Yes. I have two others." He said, outlining them to her.

"You would leave them all behind?" Vanya said, sounding surprised.

"They're not the ones with targets on their backs. That's me. But they're determined to protect you at all costs, and if they can only accomplish that by hurting the Academy they'll make that sacrifice. If neither of us were here, in all likelihood, the Commission would leave them alone."

"In all likelihood." Vanya repeated hollowly, clearly not impressed with such odds. "And they'd still be stuck here. With _him_."

Five sighed. Reginald made their lives so unnecessarily difficult. "I'm still working on ideas."

"There is a fourth option." Vanya shrugged, looking away from him. "I could die."

For a second he was sure his heart had flat lined, all conscious thought dying with the organ, before it beat violently again in his chest, a sharp intake of breath accompanying the thump.

"_Never_ say that to me again." Five growled, eyes darkening as he looked down on her.

"The apocalypse could never happen if..."

Five raised a finger to mute her. He still felt a trembling energy in his body which he didn't care for in the slightest. "What did I just say? Never say that to me! I – are you _trying_ to kill me? Again?"

"The Commission would leave you all alone." She tried to rationalise.

"_Bullshit_. Your death would send off all kinds of warning bells. They'd kill me for sure, then send an agent back to prevent your death. Even if to do so they have to remove you from the timeline entirely. I've seen it before when they deal with milestone events. There's a whole facility they maintain for people removed from time, to be reinserted at a later date. They'd medicate you up to your eyeballs then make you go cold turkey just in time for the _big day_, with an added dash of Harold to ensure you follow through. So don't for _one minute_ think killing yourself is an option. And don't pretend for one second that you thought about it because you want to protect us." He hissed, for once feeling happy to see her shrink back from him.

Good, let her fear him if that's what it took to draw attention to her own stupidity, Five thought bitterly to himself.

"You're looking for a way out of the guilt. I know that. But death isn't it." Five stated. "You think in my fifty-eight years I never considered it? Believe me, I did. I did when I realised what the Commission had turned me in to. When I finished burying our siblings under rubble after spending two days digging up the ruins of our house trying to find you and Ben."

"_Five_." She tried with a gasp, but he steadfastly ignored her widening pity eyes.

"When I read your book and realised what I'd left you with." He raved, watching her direct a tearful glance at the door to entreat him to keep his voice down. "I _know_ we would have been okay if we had been together, but there's no magic button I can press to undo that stupid, asinine, _moronic_ decision I made fuck knows how many years ago now. Even if I could find a way for us to safely continue on throughout this childhood, it's not a reset for us. Everything is different, and it always will be different. We're all broken people, Seven. I don't think that will ever be fixed."

Five grabbed her shoulders. "The only thing I have in my power to do is to ensure that we all live this time. We have to survive. Surviving is the only thing I have had for a long time. Don't take that from me by doing something stupid. Promise me. Promise me, Seven. Say it to me – you won't do anything stupid. You won't hurt yourself."

"I won't do anything stupid." She chanted back. "I won't hurt myself, I swear."

He yanked her forward and kissed her forehead, his jaw clenched so tightly his teeth protested. Five wanted to press her closer, to remind himself once again that Seven was here – that they were all there, just down the hall, a few doors away – and to wipe away the sight of fire that decorated the backs of his eyelids and to drown the scent of ash and decay that always lingered in the air around him. He couldn't though, and he couldn't express the fear Seven's words had provoked aloud either, even as he felt it build within.

"Promise me too, Five. Either we all go, or just you and me. But you can't leave me behind again, Five. Please, don't leave me again." Seven sobbed back.

"I promise, I will never leave you. I swear it." Five vowed, turning his head into her hair to hide himself from the world.

* * *

Set the night after Hundreds and Thousands when Ben learnt that Vanya remembers the future.

Maybe too sappy, but I don't care :D in regards to the last chapter I know in the comics Five left before they got given 'real names', but in the show they show the kids being called their 'names' while Five is still called Five, so I guess he must have just refused. Anyway I hope you enjoyed this. Only two more siblings to get through now! Ooh, exciting ':D I've also got the next story in the series all planned out and even set it up a bit in this chapter and the last story in the series.

As always please let me know what you thought and if I did Five justice. Have a good week 3


	11. Number Six, Envy

_Envy. A desire to covet or deprive someone of something they possess._

* * *

The day had been hell. Figurative hell of course, but at that moment in time there was no use pointing that out to Number Six. He felt for sure he was down there, burning for some unknown wrong. The heat of the blood that caked him felt like flames licking at his exposed skin, and all he wanted in that moment was the coldest shower he could tolerate to numb his body and wash away the evidence of their latest mission.

Four tried to pat his hand from the seat beside him, but Six shuffled another inch away – the Horror himself horrified at the thought of being touched while he reeked of death.

As it had been a high visibility mission, Abhijat was taking the wheel of the car today instead of Pogo (whom Dad tried to keep away from the spotlight, in case questions about genetic experimentation and the ethic responsibilities said experimentation must have breached arose in the media and undermined the good PR Dad had worked so hard to build for the Academy). Six was rather pleased with the arrangement, as Abhijat drove faster than Pogo, who preferred to drive at a safe, sedate, law-abiding pace. Abhijat always kept a blanket in the car too, which was currently draped around Six to cover his blood drenched uniform. It was something he'd begun to pack ever since their first mission at the bank.

Another tight turn pushed Six harder against the car door, which he'd huddled against as soon as Father allowed them to leave the constant flashing of cameras. Thankfully the car was quiet tonight, everyone tired after the unexpected mission alarm that sounded only an hour after they turned in for bed.

Dad didn't interrupt the silence with any offers of praise either, which was to be expected. That he wasn't tearing them apart with criticism was enough for most of them. Although undoubtedly in training tomorrow he'd bring up the perceived failures and weaknesses they had each displayed tonight, using them as an excuse to push them further.

The squeal of brakes announced that they had arrived at the house and Six was the first to push his car door open, scurrying up the stairs before anyone else even realised they were home.

Pogo opened the door for him, holding back a grimace as he took him in.

"Number Six." He greeted solemnly. "Do you require medical attention?"

Six shook his head, not trusting his voice. The back of his throat felt dry and rancid, a combination of suppressed tears and the splatters of blood he had accidentally inhaled and swallowed.

"Very well. I will see you in the morning then." Pogo said, knowing by now that Six's post-mission routine revolved around solitude and water.

The others came in behind him, but Six didn't pause to take part in their quiet conversations.

Sedately, he took to the stairs. While he couldn't wait to drench himself into as near a state of cleanliness as he could now manage, his body protested too much to move with any real speed.

The only silver lining to fully utilising his powers on missions was the brief lull in activity from the eldritch, sated from the pain they had inflicted, and relieved at finally being able to stretch after spending so long cooped up inside his body. Usually after a mission they would twist painfully within if he hadn't let them out. Now the only pain he felt was from the activation of the portal in his abdomen and the sting stubbornly persisting behind his eyes, which would disappear as soon as the water started flowing.

Rounding the landing and heading for the children's hallway, Six recoiled as he came into contact with another body.

On any other day, he would reach out to steady her as she stumbled backwards, but the thought of touching Seven – the only one left pure among them – and infecting her with the bloodiness caking his skin made him want to retch.

"Oh, Six. I'm so sorry." She immediately apologised. Seven always apologised, even for things beyond her control. It was dark, Six had been taught to walk stealthily, and it takes two people to crash into each other; but he didn't have the heart to reassure her of such facts tonight. Right now, he barely had the strength to hold back an undeserved glare.

"Mom told me to stay in bed, but I wanted to make sure you all got home." Seven continued, oblivious to his suffering. "The others are here, right?"

Six nodded.

"None of them got hurt?" She asked carefully.

He shook his head.

"Oh good. I was so worried."

Nodding, Six glanced at the ground absently, wondering if he had left a trail behind him which would stain the carpets, before returning his eyes to the outline which was Seven. The blood was drying slightly under his fingernails, but he still felt wet with it. He needed it off him, before it permanently dyed his skin red.

"Well, I'll head back to..."

Five teleported onto the landing, briefly illuminated the pair where before they had been standing in shadow.

With the flash of blue, Six was horrified to see what he couldn't before.

He'd got blood on Seven's pyjamas.

The light was extinguished too fast for Seven or Five to notice, and neither one could see the growing repulsion on his face. Seven hadn't even noticed his current state, her eyes seeking out Five for visual confirmation he was unharmed.

Reaching out with a shaking hand, Six swiped the spot to try to wipe away the stain – too far gone to consider that doing so with his dirtied hands would make everything so much worse.

Flinching back from the unexpected contact, Seven asked: "Six?"

"I...I..." He tried. His voice was untested since his last affirmation in return to One's commands when they'd entered the building, and it failed him miserably.

"What is it?" Seven asked, reaching for his hand where it still lightly hovered over her stomach.

As soon as she grabbed his slickened hand, Six found the capability to choke out: "God, I'm so sorry."

"Six, I told you it was my fault." Seven replied, voice laced with confusion over his devastated tone. "I didn't look where I was going."

She didn't understand, Six realised anxiously. She would go to bed not realising, then the blood would transfer itself further. Onto her sheets, onto her skin, across her face, into her hair, staining the pillow. It wasn't right.

"Six." Five interrupted, the only one there who was aware Six was not in his right mind. "If you're going to get into the showers first, I'd go now. The others will be up in a minute."

"Are they okay?" Seven asked Five.

"None of us are okay." Six hissed, feeling hysterical. "Now get out of my way."

He yanked his hand from hers, easy to do since his palm was too wet for Seven to keep purchase on. Cringing around her, he marched towards the showers.

Six flipped on the light switch beside the door before entering the bathroom.

The light flooded into the hallway and he distantly heard Five say with a start: "_Shit_, Seven. You've got blood on you. Is that yours?"

"_No_." Seven said, confused by its presence.

She didn't know she had the blood of his victims on her, Six thought miserably as he shut the door.

Why did she have to be standing there? They all were drenched in blood, even if it showed like tonight or not, but Seven was _always_ meant to be clean. The only Hargreeves who ever would be.

That was the unacknowledged gift of her ordinariness. Something the others, especially Seven, never appreciated.

What Six wouldn't give for that. For no powers, no missions, no monsters tearing him apart and resealing him, no training sessions with Dad yelling at him to try harder. No screaming, no blood.

She didn't know how good she had it. Didn't she understand he would give everything for that? He'd give everything, give up everything, sacrifice everything in his life. If it meant he could be ordinary_,_ he'd even curse his abilities on her.

Sometimes, like tonight he wished he could. As he flipped on the water, turning the dial down deep into the blue and far away from the red, Six longed for it.

Did she think they didn't know how much she wished for a power? How she tried at every turn to cling onto true parity with them? Be it drawing an umbrella on her forearm with a marker pen, or taking one of Five's spare domino masks so she'd have a complete Academy uniform.

Would she still want a power if it was his she was blighted with?

Six doubted it.

He stayed under the icy spray until the water no longer ran red and his teeth chattered painfully against one another. Once he turned off the jets, Six grabbed several towels to wrap himself with from head to toe until he could regain enough sensation to get back to his room.

Walking over to the mirror over the sink, Six checked to ensure his face was clear before bending over his hands to ensure his nails were clean. When he was satisfied nothing lingered, even pulling forward his ears to ensure nothing had stained the backs of them, he shuffled off to his room in search of a spotless pair of pyjamas and a book he could try to bury himself in. He nearly dropped his towels in surprise when, after opening the door, he found Seven waiting up for him.

She looked at him nervously from her perch on his windowsill, cheeks flushing.

"Hi. Sorry – I know you like to be left alone, but," she held up a book, "I thought you might like this. It's quite relaxing, so I thought it might help you sleep."

Slowly moving to her side, Six looked her over and realised she had changed and washed up after their earlier encounter.

He tentatively reached out and took the book from her, reading the title.

"Did I give you this?" Six asked, not recognising it.

"No. Remember that mission you all went on a few weeks ago at the public library?" Seven explained.

"Yeah."

"Well Five knew I wanted some new reading material, so he grabbed a few random books from the shelves before you all left to give to me. I tried to point out it counts as stealing," Seven smiled, "but he told me to stop being such a goody two shoes and start reading. Anyway, most of them were crime and gothic which I know you're not interested in – but he picked this up too and I quite enjoyed it. I figured you would too."

"Thank you, Seven."

"Don't thank me." She shrugged. "Thank Five."

Seven got up and headed for the door. "Sorry again, about bumping into you earlier. I should have stayed in my room like Mom told me to. I just worry about you all."

Six let her go, too frazzled to risk her accepting an offer to stay.

After changing into fresh pyjamas, he clambered into bed, pulling the covers up to his neck, and burying his nose inside the book.

His sister was so thoughtful. The others had all trod back to their own rooms, wrapped up in their little bubbles. Yet Seven, despite him unfairly snapping at her earlier, had worried about him and wondered how she could help him.

He'd have to thank her properly in the morning. The morning, when _hopefully_ everything would seem a little less grim and they would return to their barely tolerable status quo until the next mission wrought all these feelings in him again.

Because right now, God help him, with the blood he could still feel rolling across his skin even with it washed down the drain, Six still found himself stewing in envy.

His thoughtful sister would now be back in bed, undoubtedly sleeping peacefully with no horror to torment her through the night beside from the occasional fear of abandonment. Six on the other hand would have to read until his eyes blurred, desperate to give his subconscious something prettier to form dreams with than the memories the Academy produced during their early escapade.

How much easier life would be if he were the ordinary one and Number Seven had to suffer through this instead of him.

For once after a mission he didn't dream of monsters and gore. He dreamt of a blemish free forearm, an unmasked face and a sister he sent pitying thoughts to as she arrived home covered in fresh blood.

* * *

I'd originally thought of Ben feeling envious when Vanya goes off to school for the first time but, even though I've seen it in other stories, I can't actually picture Hargreeves risking sending Vanya off to school. I mean, what if she made friends, built up some self-confidence and decided she no longer needed 'anxiety pills'? Maybe I'm just overthinking it. But that thought process led me to this instead. The whole blood on Vanya thing ended up looking quite similar to TooYoungToFeelThisTired's recent work 'Sloth' - a coincidence but I thought I'd mention and recommend it for any Fiveya shippers reading this.  
Oh and as for the book Seven gives Six, I have no title in mind - just imagine whichever book is your favourite.

Next chapter will posted once I've read it through. Chapter 12 is the longest chapter in the story yet so it may take me a few minutes. In the meantime please comment and let me know what you thought of Six and Envy! 3


	12. Ben, Kindness

_Envy's corresponding heavenly trait is kindness. To show gratitude, satisfaction or compassion._

* * *

_"__The first week we were back, and I was struggling to decide what to do, I wished I could find the courage to tell you. And Ben, but I was worried he'd tell Klaus who would give everything away."_

_"__So, Ben's next on the list, huh? Any idea when you'll break the news to him?"_

_"__God help me. I just did."_

_"__What?"_

_"__He's been listening outside the door the whole time."_

Ben supposed her smothered laughter was his cue, drawing his ear away from the door so he could push it open. He found his siblings sat on the bed staring at him, Seven barely concealing pure panic and Five looking – for the first time in Ben's living _and_ _dead_ memories – dumbfounded.

Shutting himself in the room, not even realising there was no click when the door returned to the frame, Ben looked at Seven. _Vanya_. She remembered everything.

Weeks, months – years really. That's how long he had been waiting for this moment, for their reunion. Yet now it was finally here, Ben found that he had no idea how to react. Especially as, according to her own words, they could have reunited the day they travelled back.

Seven, _Number Seven_, had _lied_. Lied to them all. His sister, whom he'd always considered younger than himself on account of her diminutive size and apparent helplessness, the shy girl with barely contained grief constantly dancing in her eyes, who had ended the world, who had loved him and cared for him in a way no one else ever had. She lied to him. She lied and pretended that she didn't remember.

"Ben?" Seven, _Vanya_, called out hesitantly.

Five jumped from his spot on the bed to stand beside Ben. Leaning closer, Five ducked his head beside Ben's ear to whisper.

"Don't give her any fucking grief. Remember, I lied to you too. So if you're going to take shit out on anyone, take it out on me."

Not knowing how to react (he didn't think his mouth would work right in that moment even if he tried to use it), Ben settled for nodding dumbly.

Apparently satisfied, Five backed off.

Five shot Vanya a look, which must have conveyed something of meaning since she nodded at him too, before he took his leave and disappeared from the room.

"I'm so sorry." Vanya said, staying sat on the bed. She barely moved a muscle, sitting with her hands folded passively in her lap. It was almost as if she were trying not to frighten him.

"Please believe me. I always wanted to tell you. But I wanted to be able to show you all I could control my powers first. I guess..." She sighed. "Five tells me it's stupid and that he would never let it happen, and I figure given how powerful I am, _I_ would probably never let it happen either, but I was worried if you all found out you'd tell Dad and then I'd be put back on those pills or, or locked up."

Or worse, he thought wryly. He remembered their brothers' stupid plan well enough.

"I don't think _you_ would do that." Vanya continued, worrying her lip between her teeth, "but you've always been the most honest out of all of us, and I thought you'd tell the others."

"You can say I used to be a snitch, Vanya." Ben managed. "You already did in your book."

He watched her flinch and immediately wanted to apologise except he couldn't. His feet stupidly stayed rooted to the spot.

"I was angrier than I accepted at the time." She said, gazing into his eyes. "I won't do it again, but I know that doesn't undo it. It still _happened_. I don't regret it so much anymore though. Sure, it made you all hate me. But Five says it helped him when he was stuck in the future. And for trapping him in that, it seems worth it now. I deserve your hate anyway."

"I don't hate you for writing the book, Vanya." Ben frowned. "I was upset, obviously. I felt like you betrayed our trust. Nowadays though, I think I was more upset because you pointed out a few truths I would have liked to ignore."

"What do you mean?" Vanya asked patiently.

Sighing, he shuffled a little further into the room – still unaware his movements seemed to incur no audible noise. "I didn't always do the right thing."

"Yes you did." She argued, brow furrowing. Her leg twitched slightly like she wanted to stand and move over to him, but she restrained herself. "You were always the kindest of us all. You were the _best_ of us all. We all think so."

He remembered the eulogies. Personally he thought it was all a case of rose-tinted glasses.

"No one of us is better than the rest. No matter how much some of them like to think they are." He scoffed. "We're all human, Vanya. We all make mistakes."

She watched him curiously for a moment before speaking again.

"Does this mean you forgive me for lying?" She asked hesitantly.

"It was a shitty thing to do but, yeah. I get why you did it." Ben shrugged. Undoubtedly the others would be pissed, but he didn't want to think about that this late at night. "None of us have a clean record when it comes to you. We never treated you fairly, so why should we expect you to?"

Vanya shook her head. "That's no excuse for what I've done. You all...you all had more important things to worry about when we were younger. I shouldn't have taken it so personally, it wasn't your fault."

"We can't peg all of our woes on Dad, Ven. I mean, we can blame him for like ninety percent of our problems – no higher than that, ninety-five percent maybe – but we all could have helped each other more. And we will, this time."

She sighed with something akin to relief and finally stood up.

"So, you have powers." Ben said, grinning at her. "_Cool_."

"They're pretty terrible."

"Join the club." He chuckled softly, closing the distance between them to join her side. "Maybe we _should_ start a club. You and me. Maybe Klaus too; although these days he seems to seek the ghosts out rather than trying to get rid of them."

"Is he still sober?" Vanya asked.

"Yeah. It's a struggle for him, but he's doing well. I'm proud of him." Ben said, slightly underselling Klaus' pain, but he didn't want to risk overwhelming Vanya who had more than enough on her plate as it was. "I'm proud of you too."

Her face scrunched up so abruptly, it was like she'd just sucked on an invisible lemon. "I killed seven and a half _billion_ people, Ben. I hurt my family. I killed them all once. I hurt Allison – I took her powers away and I've killed her daughter twice now. I don't think that's anything that deserves merit."

"You were in an impossible position. We all had time to get used to our powers, they developed gradually. If I'd spent my whole life not knowing this was with me," he said, hands dropping to his abdomen, "and then one day they just exploded out of me..."

They both winced over his choice of words.

"...well, I would have hurt lots of people too. Maybe not the number you did," Ben conceded, "but you're more powerful than me. And if our family had been in the way – and let's face it, they're _always_ in the way – they would have been no safer with me than you. The first time my powers manifested, only one came out, and it was small. Still scared the shit out of me, and Dad, but at least they didn't all introduce themselves at once."

He instinctively rubbed his stomach as he spoke. He often did that, as the eldritch were nearly always in constant motion. Yet, as he caught himself in the action, he realised that, as they often were when around Number Seven, the eldritch were barely moving.

"I never understood why you had such an influence over them." Ben said, explaining their sudden stillness. "Maybe they knew better than the rest of us not to mess with you."

Vanya nodded but still looked pained. "Are you really proud of me?"

"Absolutely."

"No one's ever said that to me." She admitted. "Well, except for Five but that's usually only when I swear or yell at someone."

Ben slung his arm over her shoulders, less tentative in his display of affection than he had been over the last few months. She still jumped slightly as they came into contact with one another, but she quickly melted into his side.

"More people should say it. I'm glad you have Five, but we already learnt the hard way what happened when you only had one person to depend on."

She sighed. "I'm so scared that he'll leave again."

"Has he said something?" Ben asked, settling his chin on top of her hair.

"No." Vanya said after a moment's silence.

He was immediately suspicious. "Are you lying to me again? How did you get away with lying to me the first time, you're so bad at it."

"Five's working on a lot of plans." She answered vaguely. "He tells me about them sometimes. Not everything though. He's too much of a perfectionist to tell me everything, not until he's sure it would work."

Ben chuckled. "Nice to know some things never change. Somehow he still has an ego to put us all to shame. And you're obviously still his favourite. I swear when I tried to interrupt you two the other day he was about to throw something at me."

"He wouldn't have."

"Hmm. I'm guessing this means you've forgotten the incident of ninety-nine?"

Vanya pulled back a little. "You mean with Klaus and the fireworks?"

"No. I mean the birthday incident."

"Oh. Was that the year Klaus replaced my candle with one of those that won't extinguish?"

Which resulted in Dad seizing it and denying Vanya a wish.

"Or when Diego scooped up the frosting from Luther's slice of cake and rubbed it in my hair?"

Which resulted in Dad yelling at her for making such a mess and sending her away to get cleaned up. Which meant she missed the half an hour scheduled birthday party game time.

"_No_. Shit, I forgot those." He said, guiltily remembering his absolute complacency during both incidents. Curling his arm more firmly around Ven's shoulders he brought her closer to him again, as if the act could help him find forgiveness. "I meant the one when Diego ran into you on the stairs that morning, on our tenth birthday, and accidentally knocked you down them."

"Well I barely remember that." Vanya said wryly. "I'm pretty sure I landed on my head."

"Yeah, you did. You ended up with this giant bruise on your cheek." Ben remembered. "Well later, when we had our training session Five went on a one man mission to get revenge by messing with Diego's knives. I still don't know how he did it."

"Did what?"

Ben laughed, bringing up a hand to stifle the noise. "Every time Diego turned his back to the table all his weapons were on, Five somehow replaced his next knife with a banana. With none of us seeing. Even Dad. I mean, Dad knew it had to be Five and put him through hell that week for it, but he never caught him in the act. It drove Diego nuts. He even threw a couple before he realised someone had switched them."

"Why did I never hear about that?" Vanya asked, looking at him dubiously like he was making the whole story up.

"I figured Five must have told you."

"No, never."

"Huh. He looked so happy with himself afterwards, I'm surprised he didn't tell you straight away." Ben grinned. "I wonder if Dad still has that footage somewhere."

"I don't think he deleted anything." Vanya mused.

"Well that's a horrifying thought. When we inherit this place, let's burn them all."

"Hopefully," she said tentatively, ducking her head down onto his shoulder, "this time around there will be more memories we'll want to keep a hold of."

"I know there will be." He agreed.

Tightening her arms around his chest, always mindful to not disturb the eldritch, Vanya hugged him like her life depended on it. Ben brought his other arm up to wrap around her, determined to try to hug her like this every single day from then on. He would tell her how proud of her he was too. And every time he heard her play the violin – or the piano – he would stop, listen and tell her she was amazing. Because they had to make the most of this.

"Everything will be better this time. It didn't work before because Five wasn't here. Now he is and you, you will be too." Vanya said, somehow squeezing him even harder. She really wasn't as feeble as Dad always told them she was. "I won't let anything bad ever happen to you, Ben. Five's been training me, and my control is getting better. I'll protect you from Dad, and if I have to, I'll take your place on that mission. Even if Dad finds out everything in the process."

"Or we could just get Allison to rumour Dad so we never have to go on another mission at all."

For a second, Vanya's body tightened, but she relaxed again so quickly Ben felt certain he must have imagined it.

"Yeah."

"How is your training going? I hope Five's being nicer to you than Dad is to the rest of us. And to you." Ben amended. "You know, about what happened that week – I really wished I could have helped you when everything went to shit. Klaus did too; when you were, were in there, he argued to let you out. He was so worried about you. All he could imagine was how scared you were, discovering a power you never knew you had. And you know that if I'd been corporeal I would have gotten you out of there in a heartbeat."

"I know." Vanya said, offering him a tight-lipped smile. "And Five's been great with helping me train."

Ben was tentative to ask: "Do you think I can see sometime?"

Vanya wiggled out of his arms and for a moment Ben thought he had made a mistake. He knew how sensitive a topic powers could be amongst his siblings, especially for those of them with the most lethal abilities. He shouldn't have...

A doll pirouetted before him.

Laughing in surprise, he watched it dance for a moment, offering a small bow before floating to resume its seat on Vanya's dresser.

"I got it from Allison when she got bored with it. I think it came from an Academy fan."

Ben snorted. "I think the only toys we ever really got were from fans. Although even the _really_ fanatic ones had enough sense not to try to give Five anything. It was mostly Allison who got stuff – which she obviously _loved_. And she always convinced Dad to let her keep them. Most of our stuff went in boxes."

He couldn't really complain about Allison getting to keep her gifts though. He still got more than Vanya. If only everyone knew how powerful she was; she'd probably become the most popular Academy member of all.

"I'm surprised he didn't make you use them in target practice."

"Don't let him hear that, you'll only give him ideas." Ben said, shuddering somewhat overdramatically at the idea of being forced to rip a harmless little teddy bear apart with the eldritch.

Vanya laughed, before reluctantly pulling back.

"Did you want to stay here?"

Ben glanced at the closed door. In the old days he was always terrified of being caught after these night-time excursions, but nowadays he knew he could convincingly lie and say he'd gone to the toilet or tried to see Klaus after having a nightmare.

Dad knew full well how poorly Ben slept and, unlike how he treated the others, he was often patient with him. As Ben knew, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, Dad was always repulsed by the eldritch, he had figured that Dad could hardly blame him for having nightmares. Dad probably had them too. In the early days the sight of the eldritch used to make him sick.

"Did you _want_ me to stay?" He asked back, unsure how to proceed. After months of frustration he felt like the wall between them had finally come down. Now they were getting ready to part for the night however, he was worried when he woke up tomorrow Vanya would have put it back in place.

"You don't have to. Five will probably want to talk to me before breakfast. Figure out what we will do about the others."

"I'm sorry about that." Ben grimaced, thinking about his siblings' actions. "I tried to talk them out of telling you. They shouldn't have done that – it wasn't fair."

She shrugged. "I'm lying to them. I'm sure they won't find that fair. And I know you did." Tapping her ear, she explained how good her hearing was now.

"You can hear..._everything_?" Ben asked, flushing. Finally having his body back had meant Ben had been indulging a lot since they returned. From gluttonous midnight snacking to, other things, he couldn't say he liked the thought of Vanya being privy to his every movement.

Vanya cleared her throat gently. "I always respect people's privacy. Unlike the telekinesis, the hearing I can control relatively well. Although Five thinks I can hear even further. He's trying to come up with a way for us to properly test it but it's hard since I never really leave the house."

"Oh. Well if I can ever help with anything, let me know." Ben said brightly. "I think you might now be the only person in this house who could actually give me a run for my money if we ever sparred."

"I'm never fighting any of you again." Vanya snapped, taking him by surprise.

Drawing in a breath, she apologised. "Sorry. It's just, after Icarus..." she shuddered.

"No, I get that." Ben reassured, remembering how easily Vanya had defeated his brothers when they attempted to charge her. "Every time I spar with the others I'm terrified I could hurt them. It's still good though – to release some steam. And it gives me the chance to practice fighting with a little more delicacy than I usually use in the field." He added. "When I used my powers on dummies, I had no reason to hold back. And Dad would never let me hold back on criminals. Working with Luther though, I learnt to moderate myself. It was useful. So I hope you'll still think about it. I know I'm smaller than the others, but I'm tougher than I look." Ben joked, puffing out his chest for extra effect. "I think we share some similarity there."

Vanya smiled, looking placated after listening to his reasoning. "I'd be happy to train with you. I'm sure Five will tell you what you can do."

"He has grown into a little tyrant, hasn't he?" Ben mused. "I guess being alone tends to mean you always get your way, though."

"Yes." Vanya mumbled, clearly in no mood to be discuss Five's days alone in the apocalypse.

"I should get back to my room. It should be quiet out there now."

"It is. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Vanya." Ben said, hugging her tightly one more time before parting for bed.

* * *

This is set immediately following the last chapter of Hundreds and Thousands.

I feel like I've been writing this for ages and now I'm finally down to the last two chapters! Phew! As always please let me all know what you thought. I love, love, love hearing from you all.  
Have a good week 3

N.B. Oh, and in regards to Ben thinking Reginald felt ill when he saw his powers, I got that from the comic books and the notes Reginald made about the siblings: "00.06: Gruesome but fascinating. Easily manipulated due to enthusiastic if naïve nature. Must learn to suppress my nausea in order to study further".


	13. Number Seven, Patience

_The final heavenly virtue is patience. To endure difficult circumstances and tolerance of provocation._

* * *

After having nearly every door in the house slammed unceremoniously in her face, Vanya decided to indulge in a rare act of self-torment and journey to the one room that had no choice but to stay open.

Her fingers curled into a fist, automatically raising to knock, but no one was around to hear it or respond so she let the poised limb fall back to her side.

Letting her hand drift idly across the smooth wood, delaying her pain by just a second, Vanya pushed open Five's door – which nowadays stayed permanently ajar so they could all see straightaway if its inhabitant had returned at last.

It was no surprise to her that the room stood unused, yet, even after all of this time, she couldn't prevent her heart from breaking just a bit further in response to his continued absence.

Mom had long ago tidied away all his little messes, not understanding the sentimental need to leave things as they were when he ran away. To leave everything looking exactly as he had left it, as if he would step back into it at any moment.

His clothes were all neatly stored in the drawers and the wardrobe, his notebooks – the ones deemed uninteresting to Dad and Pogo – stacked on his desk, the chair fully pushed underneath, and the sheets on his bed tightly tucked. Mom had even repainted the walls, declaring them 'perfect' as the glistening blue turned matt with time. No matter how hard Vanya stared at them now, no matter how much she willed it, her eyes were too weak to detect any lingering remains of his equations beneath the new coat. She should have been grateful, she supposed, that Dad had even permitted some of his notebooks to remain in place – giving her some shred of him to return to when the day seemed especially hard.

Running her index finger along the spines, she chose the notebook from the bottom of the pile this time. As it contained Five's notes from their history classes, Vanya could understand why Dad considered them to be of no importance. Unlike her, he would have found no comfort in the deprecating notes in the margins or the odd observations he made when he decided that the actions of those in the past were 'stupid'. For Vanya, on the other hand, they were everything.

Moving to his bookshelf, she plucked his history textbook from the shelves so she could see the corresponding notes.

When Five started writing his hand knew no bounds, scrawling over whatever surface was before him; which sometimes had been his books, other times his desk, and on the odd occasion his own or someone else's skin. In lessons he tended to write down his thoughts, sometimes more diligently than his lecture notes unless it was a subject which particularly interested him. Five was always annoyed that he had to remain silent unless he had something pertinent to contribute to the class. And unfortunately Mom's senses made it practically impossible for him to whisper to her or Ben, leaving him no outlet for his thought process except on paper.

Vanya pushed the door slightly closed before settling down on the floor, so anyone walking past the room who casually glanced inside would be unable to see her sitting against the wall.

She flipped open the first pages of both books and was satisfied to see that the subject matched up.

In between the lines of notes transcribing what Mom had told them, Five had scribbled:

'_The First Battle of Bull Run took place in July 1861. This is pointless. Why do I need to waste valuable memory space on this? This will _never _be of use to me. However the Confederate forces called it the First Battle of Manassas. I wonder why he got the nickname Stonewall? Seven might know._'

The train of thought continued in his textbook, scrunched up handwriting in the narrow margins declaring that:

'_Of course if I time travel historical dates could become important, but I think I would have the foresight to simply take a generalised history textbook with me to ensure I avoid major conflicts and outbreaks of disease. Or better yet bring Seven, as she always remembers this kind of crap. The Civil War definitely sounds like something to avoid though. I was thinking about travelling forward in time anyway, as I'm fairly certain Dad has been alive since the Medieval period (which is surely where he picked up his Draconian ideas of fatherhood) Although, if I go into the past I could profit financially with my knowledge of future events, making it easier to set up a new life. Further deliberation is likely required._'

With a wry grin, Vanya flipped through the rest of the book, her mind producing the words in his voice. She was sure the others would find something pathetic in her actions – most of them had come to the 'reluctant' conclusion (_their words_) that he was long dead – but it was something she needed to do. Everything around her seemed so intangible, and she was scared if she allowed Five to fall to the back of her mind it wouldn't be long before the fog caught up around him until she could no longer remember the small details like the sound of his voice or the sharpness of his eyes.

Sure, there were the pictures, the merchandise, the old news reels; solid pieces of evidence she could use to remind herself that her best friend really had existed and was not the product of a lonely imagination. The thing was however, that the boy in those images was never really Five.

Number Five the superhero and Five her best friend: they had similarities sure, but they weren't the same person. It worried Vanya how quickly their family seemed to forget that. It had only been two years and yet it was as if Five had become a folk character of sort to her siblings rather than an actual living, breathing, thinking, feeling human being. A warning story to them all to never disobey their Father. A reminder of the cost of pride.

She couldn't allow herself to do the same. There _had_ to be someone in the Academy who remembered. Remembered how Five liked his stationary arranged (by height), what pieces of music best helped him think (Gustav Holst), which songs best helped him to relax (Antonio Vivaldi), how he always wore holes into his socks faster than anyone else, that he liked to mock Allison and Klaus over how long they spent preening in the bathroom yet could not stand to see a single strand of hair out of place on his own head, how his jumps burned through so much energy he'd have to eat nearly every hour to maintain his strength, and that gleam that came into his eye when he discovered something new.

The news reporters didn't mention that when they spoke of his disappearance. They didn't know. That's why Vanya had to remember.

She'd read his notebooks before, at first visiting his room frequently back when she believed he would reappear any day. Before she had ultimately conceded that in all likelihood he had jumped somewhere he couldn't come back from.

Or didn't want to come back from, the more traitorous voices in her head often tried to amend.

Reading the notes always proved to her however, regardless of how menacing her subconscious had become that day, that Five had always intended to travel with her. They had spoken about it endlessly, and here it was written in notes he probably never intended for her to see. He hadn't planned to abandon her and, no matter where he was, she liked to think he was working hard to come back home to them. She wouldn't keep wasting bread and electricity if she didn't truly believe it.

It had taken her some time to work up the courage to open Five's notebooks. He'd let her see his equations before, but that was different – he'd given her his permission.

At first she hadn't suspected there would be anything within them beyond notes detailing their old classes, but her urge to open them had finally won out as she started to forget what his handwriting looked like – Mom had taken down his old assignments from the walls of their classroom after a few months, and Five was never one to write her notes, he'd just materialise to speak to her.

So she opened them, and then she couldn't stop. No one ever noticed them missing so long as she only took one notebook at a time; stealing them away to her bedroom to read with a torch under the covers, once Pogo had shepherded her up to bed after making Five's sandwiches.

After reading them all, she had turned to the other books in his room – remembering his propensity for graffiti. Vanya would replace her textbooks for his so there were no gaps in his bookcase, and search for traces of his hand. Sometimes she even found them in the books she already owned, remembering the times she had ripped them away from him once she had realised he was marking the pages of her own texts. Back then she had been horrified that he would even consider scribbling in a book, especially one that wasn't his own. Now it was like a small gift – the only kind of gifts she ever received.

It had taken her a scant few weeks to devour them all, but they remained and it comforted her that she could return to them at any time. Apart from Ben, no one else knew about the sliver of Five's personality that had not yet been scourged from the house, and for the sake of her sanity Vanya intended to keep it that way.

Ben knew that Vanya often liked to squirrel herself away in Five's room after a horrid day and, after searching for her to try to apologise for rejecting her attempt at socialisation earlier, eventually found her just as the sun was setting.

"You missed dinner." He accused, sliding down the wall to sit tiredly beside her.

"Did anyone even notice?" Vanya sighed, glancing up from the page. Her neck was protesting from being bent forward for so long.

"Mom did, but she couldn't find you."

She would never think to check Five's room: "I don't think sentimentally computes for her."

Ben ignored the remark, instead asking: "Why didn't you come downstairs?"

"I wasn't hungry."

"You can't let yourself waste away, Vanya." Ben said disapprovingly, tugging the book from her hands to look through. "Five wouldn't want you to."

"Well he's not here to stop me, is he?" She retorted, pulling her legs up to hug against her chest.

"I am." He replied. "And I worry about you."

It didn't feel like he was worried when he told her to go away before, and it was only Mom who had attempted to find her for dinner.

She didn't think any of them _really_ worried; not like Five had. If she vanished she was fairly sure it would take them several days to realise. And she knew for a fact _she_ wouldn't get a commemorative portrait on the wall to mark her absence. They'd be even happier to let her fade away into a vague memory. Better a memory than an ever present burden who was always told to stay away from the windows when the press were outside and dismissed when she tried to speak without being spoken to first.

"I know." Vanya said, regardless of what she thought. She gave him a soft smile to ease his conscience. "Thanks."

"Klaus was a wreck tonight, and while Mom and Pogo were fussing over him I snuck down to the kitchens to get you some food. I left a plate in your bedroom. You'll eat?"

"Of course. Thank you, Ben."

He handed Five's notebook back to her.

"Don't listen to Luther and Diego. Five _will_ come back. He's not a person who would give up, and he definitely wouldn't leave us behind. We just have to be patient."

"I know." She muttered, letting her hair fall around her like a protective curtain. "It's just hard to be some days."

Ben reached out for her hand, mumbling: "I am sorry, Vanya."

"Sorry for what?" Vanya asked hollowly.

"I'm just sorry."

* * *

Apologies for the delay, I've had some kind of virus I picked up at work for nearly two weeks now and I seem to have a permanent headache - which makes staring at a computer screen rather difficult. But I've finally finished!  
The next chapter has already been edited, and I will post soon. And I'm guessing you all predicted I'd be switching Vanya's sin and virtue around.


	14. Vanya, Wrath

_Patience's corresponding deadly sin is wrath. Wrath often reveals itself in the wish to seek vengeance._

* * *

The very bones of the house had twisted easily to her will, the steady tempo of her heartbeat entreating the pipes to push through the wallpaper to coil and form binds around the wrists and ankles of her adopted Father, who was now splayed up in the entry.

Pogo was in the living room, mounted on the walls. She could still distantly hear the pit pitter patter of his blood dripping on the rug below, even though his pulse had spluttered to a stop long enough ago that his body was now growing cold.

Grace was designed to withstand her; she had proved slightly more difficult. Throwing her across the room had only temporarily stunned her. In the end, she had melted down her legs leaving her immobile – her head tilting in curiosity as she assessed her mangled form. Thankfully the first attack had rendered her mute. The White Violin couldn't stand the pitiful sounds she might have attempted to produce otherwise.

"Number Seven." Reginald roared at her, attempting to tap into that deeply instilled fear he had put within her decades ago. Unfortunately, for everyone involved, it didn't work on her anymore. Her blank eyes surveyed him coldly, scanning his body like a time hardened butcher choosing where to first slice into his latest delivery of meat.

"Number Seven, you will stop this at once." He continued fruitlessly, observing her carefully. There was no flicker of concern behind his eyes for his two dispatched servants, only an increasingly visible fear that his caged monster was finally loose.

She shushed him, gently. Like a mother soothing a wailing baby.

Reginald tried tugging his wrists free. She didn't know what he expected to gain from the attempt – he didn't have Luther's strength, there was no way he could free himself from metal bonds.

A glimmer of hope came into his eyes as the front door creaked behind her.

"_Vanya_." Luther entreated after a beat. "What have you _done_?"

"Don't just stand there, boy." Reginald cried. "Attack her."

The air was disturbed where Luther shook his head. "We can fix this. Okay. _Vanya_. We can, you just need to..."

The White Violin never made the same mistakes twice and, rather than listen to his lies a second time, she decided to end him immediately with a clean twist of the neck.

A sickening crunch was followed by an even more horrific sound: Allison's anguished scream as she watched Number One crumple down like a disconnected marionette.

She flinched at the sound, but not from remorse or sympathy. Her voice was recognised as one of the most deadly weapons the family possessed, one which could not be tolerated – not if she were to finally have her revenge.

Diego's tightening grip on the handle of his blade came from her left, and she used his ineffective attempt at ambush to her advantage. As his arm rose to throw, she swung it out – Number Two powerless to regain control of his limb against the force of her power – and ploughed the blade against the smooth skin of her only sister's throat.

A horrified cry nearly eclipsed a bloodied gurgle, as Diego dropped his weapon in favour of stemming the fountain of blood spewing from Allison's neck. The White Violin didn't bother lingering on her fight for life; so long as the vocal cords were destroyed it hardly mattered whether she lived or died. She was no longer a threat to her.

As she tried to return her attention to Reginald, she felt spindly arms encircle her waist, a mound of untamed curls shoving themselves into her face.

"Vanya. It's okay. It's _okay_, just come back to us."

Klaus slammed back into a door, hard enough to wrench him of his breath and knock him out cold, but his bones remained intact and his heart continued to beat strongly.

Ben tried in vain to make the eldritch attack and restrain her but for once they refused the freedom they were being granted by their host. Unlike the rest of the Academy, the eldritch had always been smart enough to recognise her power and accepted they stood no chance against her.

Still, hearing Ben squirm against them raised the possibility he could eventually force their hand. Best to take no chances.

He was the next to be cast aside.

"Five!" Diego yelled from beside Allison. "Do something!"

The White Violin had never cared for his voice. It was the voice that had constantly ridiculed Number Seven; while she had remained caged inside unable to right that wrong. He would never allow her anything. So why show him mercy? He would only get in the way.

Frowning she honed in on his pounding heart and stopped it. A crumple told her she was successful in ridding herself of another obstacle.

"Where were we?" She asked Reginald.

"_Number Five_. Now is not the time for frivolous sentimentality." Reginald screeched. She didn't care for his tone.

"Kill her!"

Turning, she watched Seven's favourite stood torn in the doorway. His fists were clenched, body geared to attack but something held him back.

What was it Reginald had said? Something about sentimentality.

Distantly a voice pleaded for Five but, since that voice rarely listened to her, she saw no gain in heeding her.

A tear looked ready to escape the boy's eye as she rose her arm ready to strike yet another obstacle down, when suddenly a feeling the White Violin didn't care for started to bubble up.

She resisted it, turning away from the boy who seemed to prompt the repulsive emotion, and returned to Reginald ready to strike him down.

There were so many ways, so many things she wanted to do. All the different methods she could utilise to draw blood – it was an almost overwhelming choice. But she sensed there wasn't enough time, not enough time to do everything she wanted to do before that annoying...

"_Vanya_!" The boy eventually managed, choking out the words. "Seven – _please_. Stop. Just stop and we can go."

She gritted her teeth. "I want him dead! After what he's done to me, I deserve his head."

"I'll give it to you." He pleaded. "Just come back to me and I'll kill him for you."

"Number Five!"

"Shut up!" Five yelled at Reginald. "Seven! Come back! I can fix this and we can start over again."

"_No_." The White Violin moaned. "I don't want to!"

She lifted her hand, pushing together her thumb and middle finger, ready to snap them together and use the sound to tear her Father's flesh from his bones.

Five pleaded to her: "_Seven_!"

The click of fingers seemed to reverberate around the room. It destroyed everything.

Gasping, Vanya threw back the sheets and bolted so quickly from her bed, any observer would think it had transfigured into a wild beast ready to eat her alive if she remained on it for another second.

Running for the mirror she was shamed to see her eyes were glowing brightly enough to illuminate the space before her. Thankfully she wasn't so far gone that her skin was similarly transformed, but the growing prickling from her subconscious worried her that it wouldn't take much to provoke her past the point of no return.

Glancing at the clock she saw it was the middle of the night, but the invitation stood no matter what time of day it was and she knew if there was ever a moment she needed to take it it was now.

Heart thumping in her chest, Vanya forced herself to keep her eyes wide open despite the urge to hide their ugliness from the world. She was scared if she shut them again she'd see the carnage behind her eyes. It was bad enough she could still hear the screams echoing in her ears.

She still took care to keep her eyes downcast and half hidden by her fringe for fear of the cameras still installed in the hallways. There wasn't much she could do about Reginald seeing her creeping into Five's room, but the punishment for that would come nowhere near what she could expect if he found out she was utilising her powers.

As she walked, she hugged her arms around herself, body shaking so strongly from the leftover adrenaline she felt as though she were about to fall apart.

Pushing open Five's door, she moved over to his bed.

"_Five_," Vanya called out as she approached, waiting for some sign that he had heard her. While she was scared out of her wits, she wasn't so far gone that she would do something so stupid as to climb into a trained assassins bed without first giving him some warning. "Five. It's me."

"Seven?" He asked groggily.

"Five, I need help."

He quickly opened his eyes, blindly reaching out to switch on his bedside lamp. "What, what is it?"

All she needed to do was lift her head and look at him fully.

"Oh, crap." Five muttered, getting up and walking over to her. "What do you need?"

"I don't know."

"Okay." He said, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. "Shit, Vanya. You're freezing. Get in the bed."

"No." Vanya insisted, her voice wobbling almost as strongly as her legs. "I don't want to lay back down. I might fall asleep again."

With a sigh, Five coaxed her to sit in his desk chair instead and draped a spare blanket over her shoulders.

"You're not even wearing any socks." He noted, bending down to feel the blocks of ice masquerading as her feet. "Here, you can borrow a pair of mine."

He rummaged in a drawer before producing a balled up pair which he shoved under her nose. When she made no move to take them, not yet trusting her trembling hands, he let out another sigh and put them on for her.

"There. That feels better right?"

Vanya managed a shrug before scooting over on the chair. It left only half a seat but Five still took it, throwing an arm over her shoulders.

As he leaned into her, he kindly commented: "You smell really sweaty, Ven."

"I know." She huffed. The hair at the nape of her neck was practically drenched in it.

"Are you going to tell me what the nightmare was about?"

She opened her mouth but hesitated. What would he think of her?

"It might help?"

Looking up at him she asked: "Are they still white?"

"Yeah." He told her gently, pulling the blanket more securely around her. "You know you'd come in good use the next time we have a power cut. We could use you as a torch."

"Thanks." She said wryly, casting her eyes down before confessing: "I had a pretty violent dream."

Five stayed silent, prompting her to continue. She didn't really want to go into detail, hoping that like most dreams it would become hazier as the day raced away from the night, although she didn't think there was much realism in the hope with a dream as vivid as this one had been.

"Total casualty count. I killed Pogo, Luther, Diego and possibly Allison. Maimed Grace and knocked out Klaus and Ben. And I was about to kill Reginald."

Nodding, Five had no words of criticism. "The last time I dreamt about killing Dad I scooped out his eyeballs with a melon baller and then slit his throat with a shard of glass from his monocle – which I particularly enjoyed smashing over his head. What were you going to do?"

Vanya sharply turned her head so she could look at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you think you were the only person with psychotic delusions of murdering our psychotic Father?" He said unapologetically. "If it wouldn't risk disturbing the timeline, I'd consider a shallow grave for him and I know several siblings who would help me dig it."

"You don't consider killing us though. Or Pogo." Vanya accused.

"Is this turning into a contest, because you know I have to win if it is." Five grinned. "What did you do to me in this dream?"

"I was going to _kill you_." She nearly screeched, bringing her voice down into a barely contained hiss.

"But?" He pressed.

"You asked me to stop."

Five nodded sagely. "See that's your subconscious telling you that you can trust me."

"When did you start going in for psychology?" She snorted, wiping at her eyes in frustration.

"I'll go in for anything if it helps me win an argument." He replied through his smile. "Are you ready to get back into bed yet, because my ass is getting numb sitting on this chair."

"Yeah, okay." Vanya conceded, already feeling bad for waking him. She prepared to stand but Five jumped them to the bed instead.

"Seriously, why can't you give me a warning before you do that?" She groaned, shivering deeply from the sensation of the jump.

"You won't always get a warning, best get used to it." He dismissed, settling back on the pillows. "Your eyes are brown again by the way."

"Oh." Vanya breathed with relief. "Thanks."

Five pulled her back, confessing into her hair: "I don't know how well training will go if you're always going to be this afraid of your powers, Vanya."

"I can't help it, Five. It doesn't help that I know I've ended the world twice with them. It makes it hard to be optimistic, you know."

"I told you, everything will be fine this time. Three times lucky, right?" He encouraged, brushing the bangs away from her warm forehead. "For a start I'm here. We all have foreknowledge. We will stay out of the Commission's way. And as soon as Harold Jenkins gets out of jail I will flay him alive."

"Or we could just move to the other side of the planet?" Vanya counter-suggested, squirming at the violent image so soon after her nightmare.

"No. I'm killing him. You did it last time, it's my turn next. If we have to have another do-over, Allison will probably call it that time." Five sighed, leaning forward to pull the discarded blanket at the foot of the bed over them.

"You don't have to do that for me." She said uncomfortably.

"I know – you never asked me to. I'm doing it because I want to."

"Why? You never even met him." Vanya asked curiously, turning onto her side so she could rest her head on Five's shoulder.

"I have always put a lot of effort into keeping you safe and then, after all those decades I spent trying to get back to save you all, I send you off almost the very minute I get back. The one time I stopped trying to keep you safe, you went and got hurt." Five confessed gruffly. "I didn't like that. Guilt never settles well with me. So he's dying."

"Unless you object?" He asked, the previously unconsidered notion abruptly occurring to him.

"_No_." She said carefully, not sure how she felt about so casually discussing her former boyfriend's death. _Re_-death, technically. "To be honest, it would probably be quite a relief. But won't that alarm the Commission?"

"That close to the day, it won't matter. They'll be descending on us, anyway." Five dismissed.

Fisting a hand in the shirt of his pyjamas, Vanya allowed herself to really think about Leonard (_Harold_) for the first time since they arrived back. She still didn't know whether to scold herself or cry.

"I genuinely thought I loved him." She acknowledged. "But now, I think I just wanted someone to care about me. I don't think it would have even mattered who that person was. What I wanted was...well, I wanted my family to care."

Her eyes tried to travel up to his face, an impossibility since she refused to lift her head up from its comfortable perch.

"Five?" Vanya said after a few minutes had passed.

"Yeah?"

"You're being uncharacteristically quiet." She prompted, her tongue stumbling over the long word after such an adrenaline filled night, prompting a soft chuckle from Five.

"I didn't lie when I caught you, Vanya. I wasn't trying to trick you or guilt you into telling me the truth." Five eventually said. "We all love you. I love you," he mumbled uncomfortably, "we're all just really shit at showing it."

"An emotionally stunted upbringing will do that to you." Vanya pointed out.

"Did your therapist tell you that?" Five drawled.

"You can mock all you want..." She tried to say, however a big yawn interrupted her to Five's relief.

"We'll save the mocking for the morning. In the meantime I wouldn't say no to some sleep."

"Okay. But..." She drew out.

"_But_?" He impelled, amused by her tone.

"I love you too." She managed, glad it was dark.

Five hugged her to his chest tighter yet remained silent.

"And I don't hold it against you. What happened that week – with you leaving and then conspiring with Klaus behind my back..."

"You heard. Fucking moron, I told him to be quiet." Five cursed below his breath.

"...and in no way is what happened with Leonard your fault. I had Allison there practically the whole time telling me something was wrong with him. I didn't listen. It wouldn't have been any different with you."

"We both know it would have been." Five said after a beat.

"Yeah." She agreed. "It's still not your fault though. Don't think that."

"It's hard to censure your own thoughts."

"I think our conversation about how to best _off Dad_ sort of proved that one already." Vanya intoned.

"We can kill him eventually if it would help." Five conceded, scrubbing his forehead with his hand as if trying to erase the frown lines that had suddenly appeared there. "It would be a logistical nightmare, but I guess we could do it on our way out. Don't kill the rest of us though – that would be a real dick move."

Despite the lightness in which they were said, Vanya was sobered by his words. The dream had only served to remind her how close she always was to losing control, and that it was the people who were closest to her who would be the first to feel the consequences.

"Don't joke about that Five."

With a huff, he apologised.

"What do you think prompted tonight's dream? Did Dad say something to you yesterday?"

"Nothing too terrible." She mused. The only time Reginald had spoken to her was when he told her to get out of Number Three's way when they found themselves at an impasse in the corridor.

"Do you have dreams like this a lot?"

Nodding felt easier then saying yes.

"So what made tonight's different? You don't usually come to find me. Even though I've told you to." Five accused.

"This one felt so _real_. Everything about it – it was almost tactile. I could hear everything, blood dripping, Diego trying to sneak up on me, the sound of the pipes behind the walls. I don't know why, but it feels more like a memory to me now than a dream. And I've never had a dream make my eyes turn white before."

"How did you feel while you were dreaming?" Five asked curiously.

"Like there was a sense of urgency. That I had to act quickly before someone else could stop me."

"Me?"

"No." Vanya said, feeling certain of that. "When you asked me to stop, there was this feeling, here," she mentioned, tapping a hand to her chest, "like something was fighting me. But it wasn't you. I felt annoyed by it. She felt annoyed by it."

"You dreamt that you were the White Violin?" Five said, concern overtaking his intrigue.

"I know." She sighed, knowing how Five felt about her considering it as a separate entity. "But _I_ wasn't in control – _she_ was. In the dream," Vanya clarified, "and I think the thing she was fighting was me."

"_Vanya_," Five groaned, "your powers aren't separate from you."

"Ben's are." She pointed out.

"I don't feel like me when I go like that." Vanya worried. "At the Icarus I almost felt like I was outside my body watching rather than being in control. I don't know if that's me _projecting_ to help with the guilt..."

"Ugh, more psycho babble." Five moaned, his hand dropping back onto the covers.

She ignored him, "...or if it really is separate. I mean, Dad suppressed my powers for a long time, Five. What if that had a side effect, what if deep down those powers kept manifesting?"

"But _you_ use that power." Five pointed out. "When we train together, that's all you. You are _in control_."

"I know. _I know_," she whined, "but how I access those powers is so different. I think about it, I try to control it. When I was – _that day_ – it was _all_ feeling. And everything was so _easy_! I get exhausted levitating a few books in circles, that day I destroyed a building, barely thinking about it, and I walked away feeling like I had more power than I started with. When I was locked up..."

Five pushed her gently off his chest so he could turn onto his side to look at her. "What happened when you were locked up? What aren't you telling me?"

"You'll think I'm nuts." Vanya breathed.

"I've been nuts before, I won't judge." Five reassured. With a squeeze of her arms he implored her to tell him the truth. "What aren't you telling me, Seven?"

"I saw me. But _child_ me – Number Seven. She was in the reflection of the glass window and, and she started talking to me. Guiding me in how to use my power – powers I didn't even remember having. She encouraged me to use my heartbeat, telling me it was the only viable sound in the room I could use, and once I escaped she stayed with me. Telling me what I needed to do. She was so _angry_, all she wanted was revenge. There was no hint of compassion, or fear, or regret. She _scared_ me, but I couldn't stop listening to her."

Groaning, Vanya flopped her head on Five's pillow. "I think I'm nuts just saying that."

Five seemed to struggle for words.

"What?" She prompted.

"Maybe now that Ben _knows_, it would be useful to talk to him about his powers. Ben has always been rather...tight-lipped about how they work. But if you really think your powers can manifest separately, then perhaps talking to Ben – whose powers we know for a _fact_ has a consciousness of its own – will give you a baseline of sorts. _If_ your experiences align, then perhaps the White Violin really is a separate entity. If not, then as you say, maybe it's all just a coping mechanism. Or some other psycho babble that Allison will claim to completely understand because she read an article about it, _once_, in Cosmo or some other garbage magazine."

Vanya looked at him curiously. "How do you know about Cosmo? There were no dentist offices left in the apocalypse." She gasped when he shifted uncomfortably beside her. "Have you _read_ Cosmo?"

"I might have glanced at one in the future," he said grumpily, "before using it as kindling."

"Oh it's all coming out now." She breathed. "Next you're going to tell me you only read Playboy for the articles."

"You know how, _earlier_, I said I like this new confident you?" He asked rhetorically. "Well I take it all back."

"Uh-uh, you told me before – you _love_ me. There are no take backs in this family. Do-over's yes, but no take backs." Vanya said, knowing she was pushing her luck.

"Please go to sleep or I'll start considering another _do-over_."

"Fine." She agreed, shuffling a little further down the bed to settle more comfortably.

"Are you going to sleep better?" Five asked, speaking more softly than he did before.

"Only one way to find out I guess."

"Do you have nightmares every night?"

Vanya sighed, shutting her eyes. "Nearly every night."

"Since the apocalypse, or before then?"

"I had them a lot before, but not every night."

"What did you have nightmares about?"

She idly wondered if Five's uncanny ability to ask questions she never wanted to answer was an as yet undiscovered power of his.

For years she had wanted to talk about the horrible things she dreamt about, but when the opportunity arose years later in her first therapy appointment she had seized up and couldn't speak a word of it. They'd nearly always centred on abandonment, if didn't take much to figure that out. But Vanya had long been ashamed by how petty and angry her dreams were – how much she longed to outshine her siblings, and to gain some type of comeuppance for the multitude of times her family had shunned, humiliated and belittled her. A lot of her anger and fear was directed at their Father, but her siblings shared in a fair amount of vengeful scenarios – even Five had been the subject of her wrath on occasion, when the days had become particularly lonely and it became hard to reason that he wasn't with her because he couldn't be. She felt for sure if she ever spoke of their content she would receive nothing but scorn in return.

"Is it always the same?" Five tried instead, giving up on patiently waiting for her to find the right words.

"No, not always. Lately though...they _scare_ me." She confessed after a beat. "They're just so, so, well...brutal. Someone always gets hurt."

"You said you have nightmares _nearly_ every night." He pointed out. "When don't you? Is there something we can do to stop them?"

"I don't have them when you or Ben are around." Vanya admitted nervously, worried that her confession would make them feel they had to spend even more time with her than they already did. "But you two can't always be here, Reginald..."

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why don't you have nightmares then?"

"You were right before, we should get some sleep?" Vanya attempted futilely. She almost felt laughing at herself – Five never gave up topics easily, no matter how much he enjoyed his sleep.

She reached a hand back to switch off Five's lamp, but he batted her arm down. Feeling stubborn she flipped it off with her mind, plunging them into a safe darkness.

"I guess because when you two are around, I finally feel like I can relax. And that nothing will get me in the middle of the night."

"What do you think will get you?" Five scoffed. "You're not exactly helpless, Vanya."

"Aren't I?" She bit back. "One pill and I _am_ helpless. And Reginald, or Pogo, or Grace – they could give me them without me knowing. What if he does tests on us in the middle of the night again, or catches us training, or I mess up and give myself away? He could ground them up and put them in my food, or maybe he has a liquid version he could inject me with and I would never know. Maybe he will tell Allison to rumour me again. Or maybe she will do it on her own – I couldn't even blame her if she did for what I've done."

Vanya was relieved when Five cut her off, feeling the back of her neck prickle with the paranoia she seemed to live with every day.

"What could Ben and I do then?" Five asked, trying to test the poor logic of her worries so she could see their improbability. "If any of those happened, what do you think we'd be able to do that you couldn't do yourself? We're just as susceptible."

"I wouldn't be alone when it did. Someone else would be there with me. I've always been alone, Five. Being alone scares me." She told his outline, glad that she couldn't see the details of his face very well amongst the shadows. An expression of disappointment or, worse, dismissal, was not something she wanted to see from him.

He pulled her close again, wanting to reassure her, before he promised: "We'll work something out. It's easy for me to sneak around anyway, especially with the cameras gone."

"You can't always be here, Five."

"I promised you, I won't leave you." He insisted. "You made a good point about the pills though. I think we should start adding combat training into our sessions. It won't be easy with the limited amount of space that we have, but I can show you a few moves the Commission taught me which Reginald won't know. Enough for you to get away if he, or anyone else," Five added darkly, "tried to do anything to you and you didn't have your powers to rely on. Or me around."

She nodded in agreement.

"There's always a solution, Vanya. We'll find one together. I promise."

* * *

I apologise for making you wait 2 weeks for the final update but I was sick, and this last chapter is over 4,800 words so at least I didn't skimp out ':D With this update my Then and Now series is now over 100,000 words which scares me a little because that's even longer than my book! And I only started writing this series in March! Does this mean if I applied half as much commitment to writing original fiction I could be producing a book every three months? No, no original fiction is not nearly as much fun as TUA fanfics that would never happen XD

Well the whirlwind (and the longest story in the series, to never be overtaken by another - I'm putting my foot down on that) is now over. I have to say thank you to everyone who has left such kind reviews! Thank you all for being such engaging readers, you really do inspire me to keep writing. The next story in the series is planned though you should know I am doing another Camp NaNoWriMo next month (starting tomorrow). However I've only set a 20,000 word target so I will most definitely have time to start writing the next installation which will be another from Five's POV. It's also going to be mainly Five and Vanya, so I know a lot of you have requests for interactions with Ben but that will have to go on hold until the story after.

I will stop writing this short novel of notes now. As always let me know what you thought, if you liked the switch in the story format by reversing Vanya's sin/virtue for now/then, and if you think my using an Italian title for the next story would come across as too pretentious. Have a good week all 3


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